


Whiskers On Kittens (A Few Of My Favorite Things)

by reona32



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Except when he is, Loki is a brat, M/M, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark break up, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark get together, Tony is not the Avenger's pet, Tony just wants love, cat ears and tail on a human, kitty!Tony, or their mascot, there be cuddles, various other Marvel comic characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 106,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony mouths off to the wrong God of Mischief and has to pay the furry price. He makes a surprisingly good cat. For Tony, being a cat isn’t so bad. Jarvis is still able to work with him, catnip is AWESOME, and nobody looks at him like he’s crazy if he crawls into their lap for a cuddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

It was a perfectly normal day when Tony was turned into a cat. Steve had made a mountain of pancakes for breakfast, using a whole carton of eggs and a jug of milk to feed the bottomless pits that were his teammates. When Tony shuffled into the kitchen a little after 8:30am, Steve added fresh blueberries to the mix and coaxed the blurry eyed engineer over to the table to eat. While Tony usually turned his nose up at most solid food in the morning, growling over his cup of coffee, there were a few foods he could be tempted to eat without too much fuss. Afterward, they all drifted out of the kitchen.

Tony made it as far as the sofa in the living room before crashing. Clint shoved a pillow under his torso so all his weight wasn’t resting on his chest and Natasha pulled the coffee table over so that when Tony inevitably flailed awake in a few hours he wouldn’t smack into it when he fell off the sofa. Then they went about their day. Natasha took Thor out to raid the bookstores. The Asgardian had developed the habit of reading almost anything he could get his hands on and Natasha just enjoyed the fact that she had a place to keep books at now. Bruce went down to his lab and Clint hoped into his Jeep and disappeared off to places unknown. Steve went out for a jog around Central Park. Around noon, Tony snorted awake and rolled off the sofa, like his teammates knew he would. He got himself another cup of coffee and went back down to his workshop.

At 4:28pm, the alarm went off. The Avengers suited up and went to battle the huge purple slugs that were currently sliming their way up Broadway. Clint lost two arrows in their jelly like bodies. Steve almost lost his shield and Natasha used half her stings in getting the slugs away from the Beacon Theatre.  Thor had fried a couple with his lightening and Hulk was just making a mess. Tony, was busy mouthing off to Loki. Then he was too slow dodging the blast of green energy that a furious Loki threw at him. And then the Iron Man armor was falling out of the sky.

“Shit! Iron Man’s been hit!” Clint informed everyone from his perch.

“Iron Man, report!” snapped Steve, his shield slicing off the head of a slug.

“Sir has lost consciousness,” replied Jarvis just as the repulsors engaged on the suit. The suit jerked to a stop in the air and then began to slowly drop but it was angled oddly. The suit struggled to keep its torso parallel with the ground.

“Jarvis, what are you doing?” Steve asked, jumping a slime trail and rolling away as Thor fried the slug behind him.

“Sir’s vital signs are odd. I do not understand the information I am receiving. I believe something is wrong,” Jarvis answered tersely.

“Wrong? Like what?” demanded Steve as everyone made concerned noises over the comm line.

“I do not know,” Jarvis snapped as the suit reached the ground and settled on its back.

“Brother!” cried Thor just as Loki disappeared with another burst of green light. The purple slugs began to melt, as if salt had been poured on them.

“Yuck,” growled Natasha, yanking her foot free of a purple puddle with a sneer of disgust. Clint clamored down a fire escape and hurried to calm the Hulk down before he could get too disgruntled about his suddenly melting targets.

Steve made his way over to the Iron Man armor and knelt beside it. “Tony? Can you hear me?” he called. “Jarvis, how is he?”

“It is most perplexing, Captain. It appears that Sir’s mass has greatly decreased. As far as I can tell, his heartbeat and respiration rate are correct for the size I am detecting. I do not think Sir is overly harmed.”

“Loki shrunk him?” Steve asked in confusion.

“I can only speculate, Captain. But I believe so.”

Thor landed next to them, worry on his face. “The Man of Iron is not injured, is he?”

“Jarvis, open the suit. Override code: Captain-9-2-4-2-Spangles.”

“Override code: Captain Spangles accepted,” intoned Jarvis.

The suit bloomed open and for a moment Steve’s breath caught in his throat in fear as all he could see was the empty flight suit that Tony usually wore under the armor. Then he noticed a lump in the middle and gently peeled the flight suit back. “Oh my god,” he gasped. The little furry body was limp, lying still in the chest cavity of the armor. Steve gently put his palm on the cat’s side, feeling it breathe shallowly.

Thor sighed gravely. “Aye. This is one of my brother’s favorite tricks. He once turned my friend Fandral into a feline for an entire turning of the sun.”

“A day?” asked Steve in a daze.

“I think he means a year,” Natasha said, leaning down to peer at the cat. Steve resisted the urge to scoop the animal up and cradle it against his chest to get it away from her.

“So, Stark is a cat now? How does that work exactly? You know, with the fur and whiskers and all that,” asked Clint. Bruce was standing nearby in his ruined pants, looking with disgust as the purple slime on his bare arm.

“Call SHIELD. I think we’re going to need their help,” ordered Steve with a sigh.

(**)

They left the black feline with the doctor and nurses in medical, who were complaining they were not veterinarians. Fury had given them a steely glare and ordered them to examine the cat to the best of their abilities. Now, the rest of the Avengers were debriefing in the conference room.

“Let me get this straight,” said Fury. “Stark was running his mouth and Loki turned him into a cat. Is that what you are telling me?”

The Avengers exchanged looks. Bruce sank down deep into his chair while Natasha chipped dried goo out from under her nails with a small stiletto dagger. Clint was smiling down at his lap, trying not to laugh, and Thor looked apologetic, like he usually did when Loki got up to some sort of mischief. Steve sighed. “Yes, sir. That’s what we’re saying.”

“I am one square away from filling out my bingo sheet,” announced Maria, tapping on the screen of her tablet computer. She gave the seated Avengers a nasty little smile. “All I need is one of you to be turned into the opposite sex and I win the free trip to Fiji.” Steve reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I still think it’s not fair we don’t get to play the Avengers bingo game too,” whined Clint.

“We’d have an unfair advantage, Clint,” Bruce replied.

“It’s not like we try to find weird shit. Weird shit just finds us! We can take odds on what type of weird shit finds us just like everybody else!”

“Gentlemen!” snapped Fury. Natasha cleared her throat. “And lady.” Natasha cleared her throat again. “Deadly female assassin to my right. How’s that?” Natasha gave a little nod. “Thank you. The point of the matter is that one of your team has been turned into an animal and you are effectively a man down.”

“I don’t think Stark ever thought he’d be getting this type of pussy,” mused Clint.

“Clint! That was uncalled for!” exclaimed Steve, glaring at the archer. Clint put his head down on the table and giggled.

The wall intercom crackled on. “Director Fury? Stark is awake and, well, we could use the help of the other Avengers, sir.” There was a yelp in the background followed by a loud crash.

“Are you saying you can’t handle one 10 pound cat?” demanded Fury.

An unholy howling came over the intercom. “Yes sir, I am! Send help! He’s tearing everything apart!”

The Avengers all stood and trooped out of the conference room, hurrying down to the medical bay. Inside, they found chaos. Several gurneys had been overturned and medical supplies littered the floor. A huge cabinet had fall over on its side and several nurses were hiding behind it. A sink was gushing water onto the floor. A white coated doctor was standing on a table, like a 50’s housewife that had seen a mouse. He pointed toward a long, low counter on the other side of the room. “Stark is a menace, no matter what shape he’s in!”

“What happened?” demanded Steve in his best Captain America “don’t mess with me” voice.

“The little beast woke up and went nuts!” cried a nurse. There was a deep scratch on her chin.

“He’s insane! He should be locked up in a cage!” sobbed another nurse.

“Oh, will you all shut up! He’s just scared!” shouted a third nurse. The front of her scrubs were soaking wet and she was kneeling down in front of the long counter. Her brown hair was coming out of her ponytail and she looked very unimpressed. “Tammy, be useful and shut off the water before it floods the whole floor.” One of the nurses hiding behind the knocked over cabinet got up with a sniffle and went to shut off the sink.

“Whoever thinks Stark is not the most dangerous out of all of us needs their head examined,” announced Clint, looking around at the mess with an impressed air.

The nurse kneeling in front of the counter blew her bangs out of her eyes and ducked back down, laying her cheek on the floor. “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Stark,” she said calmly and in a gentle voice. “My co-workers are dunderheads. It must have been very scary to wake up to all of us leaning over you like that, poking and prodding. Very rude. I apologize for that.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you could open your eyes or meow or something? It’s very hard to see you in the dark.” Tony must have opened his eyes because the nurse redirected her gaze up a little. “There you are. Well, Mr. Stark, it appears you are now a cat. It’s our understanding that Loki did this to you but as far as we can tell, you’re a perfectly healthy adult male American Shorthair. A rather handsome kitty, if I do say so myself.” There was a soft meow from under the counter and the nurse smiled. “I’d thought you’d like that, Mr. Stark.” She picked her head up and glared at the Avengers standing by the doorway. “Are you just going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help me fish your teammate out from under the counter?”

Steve jumped a little and then hurried across the room. He didn’t notice Clint tug 10 bucks from his pocket and hand it to Natasha, who plucked it from his fingers with a smile. Steve knelt across from the nurse and bent his head down, looking into the darkness under the counter. “Tony?” He glanced at the nurse. “I don’t see anything.”

The nurse put her head back down and sighed. “Mr. Stark, what did I say about closing your eyes? I’m sure Captain America here would really like it if you opened those pretty peepers for him.”

Steve smiled as two golden eyes appeared in the gloom, gleaming and glowing. “Hey, Tony. You okay?” He glanced at the nurse. “Can he understand me? I mean, as a cat?”

“We think so,” replied the nurse. “Mr. Stark, if you can understand us, give us a big old hiss.” An impressive spitting came from under the counter in answer. The nurse smiled. “There you go. I think you understand us just fine. Won’t you come out from under the counter now?” A rolling growl rumbled out next. “I guess not.” The nurse sat up and yanked the tie out of her hair, quickly pulling it back up neatly. “I don’t suppose he’s ever shown a fondness for tuna?” she asked Steve.

“Um, not that I noticed.”

The nursed ducked back down. “Mr. Stark, would you like some tuna? You must be hungry.” No answer, no sound. “How about some nice chicken?” A very soft meep replied from under the counter. “Chicken it is then.” The nursed pushed herself up and then grabbed Steve’s ear. She yanked Captain America’s head around. “Do not reach under there and try and pry him out. He will surgically remove your fingers if you try, super soldier or not. Understand me?”

“Yes ma’am!” squeaked Steve.

The nurse released him and hurried across the room to the hallway, plowing through the Avengers. “Back in a second. Make a hole! Move it or lose it!” She raced down the crowded hallway, agents attracted by the noise and the rumor that Iron Man was now furry and with a tail.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the crowd. “Be somewhere else,” she said coldly.

“Now!” growled Clint. The hallway emptied like fog under bright sun.

Steve rubbed his ear and put his head back down. “Tony? Why don’t you come out now? I promise we won’t let the doctor and nurses get you again. Tony? Are you still there? Your eyes are closed again.” A soft meow from under the counter answered him.

“We still need to take more blood samples,” complained the doctor, climbing down off the table.

“I think you’re done here,” said Bruce calmly. “We’ll deal with Tony from now on.”

“Aye, I think you have terrorized our friend enough for today,” rumbled Thor.

“We weren’t terrorizing him!” snapped one of the nurses that had been hiding behind the overturned cabinet, the one with the scratch on her chin. “That monster just attacked us for no reason!”

Natasha took a single step toward the nurse that had spoken. “Leave.” Both nurses paled and fled the medical bay, the grumbling doctor following resentfully behind them.

Bruce knelt in front of the counter and peered under it. “Tony? Are you okay? We’re sorry we left you alone with those medical professionals and I use that term very loosely. Steve, I can’t see him. Where is he?”

Steve pointed to the right a little. “There. I think. He sort of disappears in the dark. Tony?” The golden eyes opened again to glare at the pair and then slid shut again. “He’s not happy.”

The nurse reappeared carrying a paper plate with some cut up chicken on it and a Tupperware bowl filled with water. “Good thing I brought my lunch today,” she said, setting plate and bowl on the floor in front of the counter. She grabbed Bruce and Steve’s arms and hauled them up. “Let’s move to the other side of the room until he feels comfortable coming out. I brought you some num-nums, Mr. Stark. I hope you like it.”

“Num-nums?” echoed Clint with a snort.

“Shut it. Just be glad it’s not kitty kibble.” The nurse sat on a stool that had somehow survived the destruction and faced the opposite wall, keeping the counter in her peripheral vision. “Don’t stare,” she hissed at the Avengers. “He won’t come out then.”

Natasha hopped up on a table and went back to picking her nails clean. Clint scooped up the medical supplies and started building a box city out of them. Bruce righted a chair and snagged a soggy pad of paper and broken pencil off the floor to occupy himself. Thor and Steve sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, just short of twiddling their thumbs in boredom. They all pointedly ignored the counter.

“There’s the handsome boy,” breathed the nurse some twenty minutes later. The Avengers looked up and saw a sleek black cat nose his way out from under the counter, inching toward the food and water. Golden eyes watched them warily, black whiskers and nose twitching. Steve shifted to stand but the nurse flapped her hand at him. “No. Stay where you are. Let him come to us.”

Tony’s ears swiveled around as they spoke, tiptoeing forward on little cat paws. Finally he was crouched in front of the bowl of water and lowered his head, pink tongue lapping up the liquid and narrow golden eyes focused up at his audience. He drank for some time. “He must be dehydrated,” muttered Bruce.

“Lapping is terribly inefficient,” the nurse said absently. Finally, the cat moved on to the chicken, delicately nipping up each piece until the plate was clean. Tony sat up, licking his whiskers and pawing his face.

“Tony?” called Steve. The cat curled his long tail around his legs and sat primly, a look of distaste on his face. “What should we do?” he asked the nurse.

“Stay still. He’s skittish enough that any movement from us will send him back under the counter,” she replied.

“Are you a cat whisperer or something?” muttered Clint.

“My family has always had cats as pets. I have two cats myself now and often help my mother and aunt foster kittens. I’d say I’m more knowledgeable about cats than you are, Agent Barton,” retorted the nurse, turning her head enough to glare at the archer without losing sight of Tony.

Tony turned, stretching out his spine and spreading his legs, and then began to slink around the edge of the room. He inched along the wall until he came to the overturned cabinet and then sprang lightly up and over it. Steve sat still as the black cat crept around the whole room until Tony was hunched down next to his thigh, the very tip of his tail twitching. “What should I do?” he croaked out.

“Calm down for one thing,” answered the nurse with amusement. “Then take off your gloves and give him a nice pat.”

“That sounded dirty,” said Clint. He looked at Natasha. “Did that sound dirty to you?”

“Not now, Clint,” scolded Bruce while Natasha gave the archer a blank stare. Steve ignored them and pulled off his gloves. He slowly dropped his hand toward Tony’s head, golden eyes watching his every movement. Steve was sure that at any moment fangs and claws would sink into his skin and he braced himself for pain. But his fingers landed on fur and Steve’s scratched between Tony’s triangle-shaped ears.

“I am disappointed by the lack of blood and screaming,” announced Clint drily.

The nurse hopped off her stool. “Permission to approach, your royal furryess?” she asked, grinning. Tony meowed up at her loudly. “Thank you.” She knelt and gently ran her hand over his side. “I know Tammy got ahold of your tail a couple of times and Dr. Zengel grabbed your back leg at least once, the asshole. Can you rollover on to your side for me? Thank you,” said the nurse. Natasha slid off the table she was perched on and disappeared down the hallway. The nurse gently moved Tony’s back leg, prodding the muscle. “Any pain? One meow for no, two meows for yes.” Tony meowed once, leaning up to lick at where the nurse had ruffled his fur.

“Is he okay?” asked Steve, concerned. Tony lounged against his thigh as the nurse checked his front paws.

“He looks to be fine. A little sore and bruised, no thanks to my colleagues, but , like I said, a healthy adult male American Shorthair cat. Just be gentle with him when you pet or play with him for the next day or two.” The nurse rubbed under Tony’s chin, the cat tilting his head up for the attention. “I see no reason why he should need medical observation. He can go home with you.”

There was a sharp pained yowl from out in the hallway. The nurse jerked her head up but all of the Avengers sat calmly. Tony’s ears swiveled around, licking at one paw. “That’s just Natasha,” said Clint when the nurse stood in concern.

“She is showing our displeasure about Dr. Zengel’s treatment of our friend,” said Thor with approval in his voice. He reached over Steve to lightly run a hand down Tony’s back. The cat arched into the strokes, his front low the ground and his backend in the air.

The nurse blinked. “Right. Big damn heroes and generally scary people. I almost forgot,” she said with a small bark of laughter.

“We’re very grateful for your help, Miss…?” said Steve, trailing off.

“Burkhart. Patricia Burkhart. Is it always this crazy around here or can I be expecting some calm moments?”

“This was marginally calm for us,” replied Bruce, rubbing at his nose with an apologetically smile.

“There are normally a lot more explosions,” Clint said, his hands fluttering up in the air to demonstrate.

“I’m in the wrong line of work, aren’t I?” muttered Patricia. Tony meowed at her, bumping her knee with his head. The nurse smiled at him and rubbed behind one of Tony’s ears. “The first time I met you Mr. Stark, you called me sweetheart and then ran away from me when I tried to take a blood sample,” she mused.

“Sounds about right,” said Steve.

Patricia grinned. “Well, he’s fine as far as I can tell. If you think he’s having problems, bring him back and I’ll see what I can do. Otherwise, I’d take a trip to the pet store as soon as you can. If he doesn’t turn back into a human fairly soon, he’ll need a litter box and food at least. Maybe some toys and a scratching post.”

Thor perked up at the mention of shopping. “We are going to buy things at the store of pets for our friend Tony?”

“You should. I’d leave quickly before Dr. Zengel gets back to whine at you,” replied Patricia.

Natasha reappeared with a satisfied look on her face. “Dr. Zengel is no longer in the employment of SHIELD and has been escorted from the building.”

Patricia blinked and then grinned. “Awesome.” Tony meowed loudly in agreement.

Steve and Thor stood up. “Let’s change and then head out. We’ve done all we can here,” said Steve. At his feet, Tony gauged the distance and then sprang up, latching onto Steve’s suit with sharp claws and climbing. “Tony, stop that!” Steve cried, although there was no way he could feel the cat’s claws through his suit. Tony draped himself over Steve’s shoulder, letting out a triumphant meow. Steve put his hand gently on Tony’s back, afraid he’d fall.

“Looks like Tony is a percher, Steve,” said Bruce.

“Great, another one,” muttered Natasha, giving Clint a frosty look. Clint gave his biggest grin in return.

“Ok, um. Let’s go. I could use a shower,” announced Steve, very carefully heading toward the door with his shoulder cocked up to better support Tony. He paused and glanced back. “Thanks so much for your help, Miss Burkhart.”

“Think nothing of it,” replied Patricia, flapping her hand. “I’ll send you a bill.” She watched the Avengers, plus one cat, disappear out of the door and down the hall. She turned around to survey the destruction in the medical bay with a grimace. “A very large bill,” she muttered. The nurse bent down and picked up a box of gauze, weighting it lightly in her hand before dropping it back on the floor. “I’m going on coffee break,” she called to the empty room before hightailing it out the door to anywhere that was not the medical bay. There were some things SHIELD just didn’t pay her enough for.


	2. TWO

So, Tony was a cat. He didn’t remember much of being turned into a cat. Just the bright flash of Loki’s magic, the sudden static shriek of Jarvis in his ear, and a biting but quick pain deep in his bones and then nothing until he woke up in the medical bay surround by nurses and a doctor with the bedside manner of a falling boulder. Tony could admit he had reacted badly. (They were too close, much too close, and they were hurting him. The table was cold and he didn’t know where he was, and oh god, he couldn’t do this again. Please, not again.) He felt guilty about scratching that one lady but she had grabbed his tail rather hard. (And wasn’t suddenly having a tail a revelation. That and having a furry body and whiskers and four legs and - he needs to calm down before he hyperventilates and passes out. Can a cat hyperventilate and pass out?) Besides, being a cat was a temporary thing. The others wouldn’t leave him like this forever, he was sure, and they weren’t going to suddenly get rid of him or anything like that. (Like send him to a shelter or merely toss him out the back door – not that the Tower had a back door to toss him out of but you get the idea – or decide he wasn’t worth the trouble of helping or suddenly decide that Tony was a lot easier to handle as a tiny feline or – nope, hyperventilating now.)  
  
Natasha broke away from the group and disappeared into the women’s locker room while the rest of them went on to the men’s locker room. “Ugh, I think I have purple slime in places I didn’t even know existed,” complained Clint, heading toward his locker.  
  
Tony jumped from Steve’s shoulder to land neatly on the bench. (He didn’t even think about it. Just gathered his back legs and sprang forward. He had half a second to be utterly terrified as he was flying through the air, certain he was about to go splat, and then his new body was landing with barely a jolt.) He stalked along the bench and sat hunched over at the end, a black ball of furry malcontent. “Is everything okay, Tony?” asked Steve, reaching out to gently put his hand on Tony’s back.  
  
Tony was not proud of himself when he growled and took a swipe at Steve’s hand, although he did have enough presence of mind to make sure his claws were sheathed. Steve jerked back and Tony slipped off the bench, aware that they were all staring at him, and crawled into an empty locker because if he couldn’t hide in his workshop to be miserable and panicky in private then he’d take any second best dark hole. (Not a cave. Not a cave. Not a cave. Damn it.)  
  
“Is this normal behavior for the feline species?” asked Thor, worry clouding his voice.  
  
“I don’t know about the feline species, but it’s normal for the Stark species,” answered Bruce. “Let’s give Tony some time alone and just take our showers.” Good old science bro. Tony knew he could count on Brucie to know when the engineer needed space. (Pepper always said that if Tony was not given space, then he would create space. Mostly by violently pushing people away and being an utter dick.)  
  
Tony listened to the rustle of clothing and heard his teammates walking off to the showers. (His hearing was awesome. He could even hear Clint and he usual couldn’t hear the ninja twins at all. At least not until they decided to suddenly speak and scare the living daylights out of him.) The cat sat in his empty locker and tried to think logically and sort through his thoughts. (Other people might mistake this for sulking. They were remarkably similar looking.) Tony had been turned into a cat by Loki. (God of Mischief and pointy helmets. The jerk.) He was stuck as a cat for the foreseeable future. Tony trapped his tail between his front paws to stop the appendage from lashing from side to side in agitation and whacking against the metal sides of the locker with loud hollow thumps. (God, having a tail was bloody annoying.)  
  
He was small, furry, and basically helpless. (Tony twisted around and licked franticly at the fur standing up on his back. The very idea of how helpless he was like this made his whole body itch.) Well, they were just going to have to hunt Loki down and make him turn Tony back into a man. Simple as that. (Right. Simple. He was so screwed.) He also needed to pee and he’d be damned if he’d use a kitty litter box like nurse Burkart suggested. (Patricia Burkart. Tony needed to remember that. He was going to give her, well, not a raise and a promotion, she didn’t work at Stark Industries for one thing and Pepper had told him repeatedly that a raise and a promotion was not a suitable gift for every person he came across. But he was going to do something awesome for Patricia Burkart. She was, like, his seventh favorite person in the world right now.) Tony slunk out of the locker and around the corner. He could see the others standing under the showerheads, hair plastered to their skulls. Tony considered the drain of one of the empty showers but pride reared its head at the very thought. He was not actually an animal. He’d use the toilet like every other civilized human being.  
  
Tony entered the large bathroom area. (The tile was freaking cold against his paws.) He ducked under a stall door and regarded the porcelain throne within. Real cats used toilets. He heard about cat owners training their pets to use a toilet. If they could do it, then sure as hell Tony was doing it too. No way was he doing his business in a tub of clay pellets. He gauged the distance, shifted onto his back legs, and leapt. It was not his most elegant jump of the day but at least no part of him ended up taking a dip. (There was a bit of clumsy scrambling but nobody needed to know that.) Tony looked down into the bowl and walked around the rim. This shouldn’t be too hard. Just a bit of balancing, really.  
  
Tony arranged his paws on either side of the rim and let out a kitty sigh in relief. (This was fucking embarrassing. Loki would pay for this.) He jumped down when he was finished. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He hopped up on his back legs and wrapped his front paws around the flush handle. It took all his weight to flush the toilet but he managed it. Tony ducked back under the stall door and found Clint waiting for him outside, dressed in jeans and a towel slung around his neck. Tony meowed at him loudly. (And by meowed, he meant ‘What the fuck are you looking at, birdbrain?’)  
  
Clint grinned. “Did you actually just use the toilet? As a cat?”  
  
Bruce came up behind the archer. “Cats can be trained to use the toilet, Clint. I guess this also means Tony’s mind is intact in there. That’s good to know.”  
  
“Does this mean we don’t have to get him a kitty litter box?”  
  
“God, I hope so.”  
  
Thor filled the doorway behind them, an inadequately sized towel wrapped around his waist. “Is it not normal for felines to use toilets?” he asked.  
  
“Not really,” said Bruce. “They mostly go in a kitty litter box and then bury it.”  
  
“Kitty litter box?”  
  
“It’s a box filled with some pellets, usually made of clay and carbon to control the smell. The clay clumps and feces need to be cleaned out regularly.”  
  
Thor’s face showed his disgust with the idea. “Midgardian animals are strange.” Tony meowed again. (You don’t know the half of it, Thor old buddy.)  
  
“But it looks we won’t have to worry about that,” said Clint. “Which is good, because so not it.”  
  
“Not it either,” boomed Thor quickly. Clint and Bruce winced as his voice echoed around the tiled bathroom. The god had quickly adopted the habit of declaring himself ‘not it’ after the first time Clint and Natasha had used it to get out of cleaning the kitchen. Tony slipped past them, avoiding puddles of water on the floor, and jumped up onto the bench again.  
  
“There you are,” commented Steve as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. “Where did you run off to?” Tony didn’t answer. (Couldn’t answer.) The cat studied the jean clad knee in front of his face and gave into instinct, leaning forward to rub his face all over the stiff fabric. (You are mine.) Tony rubbed against the edge of the bench. (This is mine.) The shield was leaning against the seat and Tony paused for a moment before rubbing against it too. (That is sort of mine but I’ll share it with Steve.) He jumped down and trotted over to Clint’s bow case. (This is mine.) He went over to Bruce and rubbed against his shin. (You are mine.)  
  
Some infinitesimal noise had Tony’s ears swiveling around and he raced over to the door, jumping up on his back legs to paw at the door and meow loudly. “What has gotten into him?” asked Clint.  
  
The door cracked open and Natasha peeked in. “Decent?” she asked. Tony tried to shove his body through the thin crack but didn’t succeed.  
  
“Yeah, come on in,” said Clint, pulling on his boots.  
  
The door swung open and Natasha came in. Tony immediately rubbed his whiskers against her calf. (Ha! Mine.) Natasha gave the cat an amused look and Tony trotted over to Clint to rub against him and then on to Thor. (Mine and mine.) He rubbed against Thor’s leg and then caught sight of his hammer resting by the locker. He could feel the electricity that surrounded the weapon. Mjölnir made his fur stand on end. Tony slunk back across the room and climbed on top of Steve’s duffle bag, the Captain America suit crinkling inside. He gave it a rub. (Mine.)  
  
“Most unusual behavior. What does it mean?” asked Thor.  
  
“Cats have scent glands at the corners of their mouths, near their whiskers. Tony was just scent marking us, I guess,” explained Bruce. Tony licked his nose.  
  
“Same old Tony I see,” said Natasha. “You ready to go? I’m starving.”  
  
“Yeah, let’s go,” replied Steve, reaching down for his duffle bag. “You gonna move?” he asked Tony. The cat flattened himself and sunk his claws into the rough fabric. “Suit yourself.” Steve hoisted the bag up, hooking the strap over his shoulder, and then picked up the shield. Tony rode the motion up and settled happily on the bag.  
  
“Pizza ok?” asked Clint, pulling out his phone.  
  
“Aye, pizza sounds well enough to sate our hunger,” agreed Thor.  
  
“Pizza’s fine,” said Natasha as she opened the door and lead everyone out into the hall. Steve and Bruce nodded.  
  
Clint woke his phone up and pressed the first square. The call was answered on the first ring. “How may I help you, Agent Barton?” asked Jarvis politely.  
  
“Well, first of all I should warn you that Tony is now a cat,” said Clint, shoving his phone between his cheek and shoulder to grab his bow case.  
  
“I am aware, Agent Barton. I have taken the liberty of ordering Sir the amenities that he will need while he is transformed into a feline.” Right, almost omniscient totally sentient computer with completely illegal access to SHIELD’s surveillance systems. Of course Jarvis knew that Tony had been turned into a cat. He probably had eyes on his creator every second he was in SHIELD Central and was probably ruining Doctor Zengel’s credit score in revenge at that very second. Jarvis was a very protective AI.  
  
Clint repressed a shudder. Skynet. Totally. “That’s great, J. Nix the kitty litter and box though. Tony can apparently use the toilet.”  
  
“I see. Order has been updated, Agent Barton. Is there anything else?”  
  
The Avengers all piled into an elevator and were heading down into the bowels of the garage. Clint’s phone didn’t even crackle once with static. Stark phones were awesome. “Can you call up our usual pizza order? We are one bunch of ravenous superheroes.”  
  
“I shall. Will that be all?”  
  
“Yep,” replied Clint as the elevator stopped and they all headed toward the black SUV that would take them back to the Tower. “Thanks, Jarvis. We’ll see you in thirty.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Agent Barton.” The AI hung up and Clint shoved his phone into his pocket so he could hoist his bow case into the storage area of the SUV.  
  
Tony jumped from Steve’s duffle bag into the trunk and then over the back seats and into the front. Steve put his bag and shield into the back and shut the SUV hatch. “I think Tony calls shotgun,” he said. Tony scrambled up onto the dashboard and sniffed along the buttons and knobs. (So many awesome smells! Oh, yuck. Not that one.) Tony sneezed, shaking his head, and jumped down onto the passenger seat.  
  
“He’ll have to fight me for it,” teased Natasha, opening the passenger door. Tony obediently hopped back into the middle seats, where he usually sat. (You can have it! I’m not suicidal.) Clint climbed into the driver’s seat because he drove all of their vehicles no matter what it was and turned the SUV on. Country music blared from the radio and Natasha jabbed it off harshly.  
  
Thor opened the rear access door and climbed into the back seats, which had the most leg room. Thor lightly set Mjölnir down on the floorboard by his feet. Bruce sat next to him, pushing his glasses up his nose. Steve sat in the middle seat, behind Natasha, and Tony sat next to him, behind Clint. The huge SUV seat dwarfed the cat. Steve gave the feline a worried look. “Shouldn’t Tony be in a carrier or something?”  
  
Tony glared, his lips curling up with a hiss and snarl. (No way! You are not putting me into any boxes!) “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bruce said quickly. “I’m sure he’s fine where he is.”  
  
“Remember that Tony isn’t really a cat, Steve. Do you really want to try putting him into a small container?” asked Natasha. Clint snorted as he backed the SUV up and then drove toward the exit, flashing his ID at the guards and leaning out of the window to place his palm on the scanner. They were waved through and Clint guided the SUV out into the midday New York traffic.  
  
Steve winced and looked apologetically down at the cat. “No, definitely not. Sorry, Tony.” Tony growled in response.  
  
“Tony, if you could sit down or something, that might make Steve feel better about your safety in a moving car,” asked Bruce.  
  
“Aye, safety in a vehicle is very important,” said Thor gravely. It had taken a rather graphic video to get the god to agree to wear a seat belt. Still glaring, Tony folded himself down into a classic kitty-loaf position, gathering his legs under himself and wrapping his tail around his body.  
  
“Thank you,” Steve said seriously. Tony looked away, glowering at the floor. Clint turned the radio back on and Natasha scanned through the stations to find something that wouldn’t drive them all crazy. They pulled into the underground garage to the Tower soon, which Tony was glad for because not being able to see out of the windows was boring. Clint parked and turned off the SUV and everyone piled out of the vehicle.  
  
Tony leapt over Steve’s lap and was racing across the garage floor to the elevator in a blink of the eye. (Freedom!)  
  
“Tony! Wait for us!” called Steve. (Fat chance, slowpokes!) Tony yowled up at the elevator doors and they slid open.  
  
“Welcome home, Sir,” greeted Jarvis. Tony trotted inside with a meow and sat primly in the middle. He meowed again, flicking an ear. “A moment, Sir, if you please. I believe your teammates will be most put out if you leave them in the garage.” Tony’s tail lashed from side to side, unimpressed, but waiting with ill grace.  
  
Steve grabbed his bag and the shield and hurried into the elevator. “Thanks, Jarvis.” He looked down at Tony disapprovingly. “I wish you wouldn’t rush off without us. You’re not exactly at your best right now, Tony.” Tony growled, showing his fangs. (Excuse you! I am always at my best! I may be furry but that does not mean I need a babysitter!) He put his back to the other man. “Tony,” Steve sighed, exasperated.  
  
Clint dropped the keys into the front seat of the SUV; some lackeys from SHIELD would come pick the car up whenever, and grabbed his bow case from the back. Everyone fit themselves around the cat and his puffy tail and the elevator closed and began to rise. “The pizza has arrived and is waiting for you in the kitchen of the communal shared floor,” announced Jarvis. Various mutters of acknowledgement rose from the group and Tony perked up. (Pizza! Awesome!)  
  
“Can cats have pizza?” asked a worried Steve. Tony’s ears went flat and he scowled up at the super soldier. (Do not think of denying me pizza, you fashion horror. I will shit in your boots if you try.)  
  
“Yes,” replied Bruce, heading off a furry melt down. “At least some. The meats and cheese and crust I should think. Probably not the peppers or anything like that. But he might not even want some. It might not taste the same to him.” Tony turned a horrified look toward the scientist. (Not want some? Not taste the same? Say it isn’t so! Oh, the injustice! The humanity!)  
  
“I have ordered Sir his own feline approved food,” said Jarvis. “It is produced in small batches by a pet boutique in uptown Manhattan and uses only fresh ingredients. It is in the refrigerator.”  
  
“That’s good at least,” said Steve dubiously. (Jarvis, you traitor! I’m going to reprogram you to speak in a nasal tone. You’re going to sound like Fran Drescher. I am NOT eating cat food!) Tony added a hiss for good measure and the second the elevator was open took off like a shot toward the kitchen. He could see the white cardboard boxes stacked up on the island counter. (Score! You snooze, you lose!) With a leap, Tony was up on the nearest stool and then up on the counter. He scrambled across the marble. (The hell?) His paws slid around and then he was skidding off the opposite edge. He dropped to the floor, landing on his feet.  
  
“Very impressive, Stark,” said Natasha with a chuckle, sorting through the pizza boxes to find the mushroom and pepper. She handed Thor his deluxe supreme. Well, one of his deluxe supreme pizzas. The god could polish off a couple pizzas just by himself. Clint snagged the top box and began eating because he didn’t care what the toppings were.  
  
“Are you okay, Tony?” asked Steve. Tony gathered himself out of his stunned frozen position and licked at one paw, trying to look nonchalant. (I meant to do that.) He twitched away from Steve when he bent to pick Tony up and leapt up onto a stool, claws digging in to keep from sliding off the wooden seat. (Somebody hand me a slice of pepperoni.) Steve frowned at him but Tony ignored him. “Let’s see what Jarvis got you for food,” the super solider said, turning to the refrigerator.  
  
Several pieces of cheese, pepperoni, and sausage appeared on the counter in front of Tony and he gobbled them up while Steve was looking away. (Hmm, grease and fat. Yummy. Pizza is still awesome.) He licked at his whiskers as Steve brought out a tub from the refrigerator. It had a pink label on the lid. (Fuck, will the humiliation never end?) “This is Chicken Feast. You like chicken, right?” Tony flicked an ear. (Chicken and chicken cat food are entirely different things, Steve.) Still, Steve took down a plate from the cabinet, put some of the food on it, and set the plate in front of Tony. (You have got to be kidding me!) “Just try a little, Tony. Please? I don’t want you to get sick,” pleaded Steve. Tony grumbled. (I may be cute and furry but those puppy dog eyes could kill.)  
  
The Avengers watched in silent anticipation as they munched on their pizza. It was a good bet that Tony was going to flip the plate on the floor rather than eat it but the engineer was known to capitulate to Steve’s gentle demands at the oddest times. Tony leaned forward to sniff at the plate. (Smells like chicken. And pea and carrots. And, well, actual real food. It is, however, cold.) Tony looked up at Steve and meowed. “Please, Tony? Just a couple of bites?” pressed Steve hopefully. (Ok, not being able to speak now officially sucks. Cold. The food is cold. I’m not a fucking mime here. Work with me a little.) Tony reached up and tapped the plate with a paw. (Cold!)  
  
“The boutique’s website states that some cats might like their food heated,” suggested Jarvis. (Yes! A million points to the AI!)  
  
Natasha picked the plate up and went to the microwave, popping it in for a couple of seconds. “Not too hot,” cautioned Steve. She gave him a flat look as she stirred the food and ran it another few seconds. She stirred again and then held the back of her hand over the food for a second to check.  
  
Satisfied, Natasha took the plate back to Tony. “Here, your majesty,” she groused. Tony’s tail lashed and, if cats could smirk, he would be doing so. (Thank you, my faithful servant.) Natasha glared, as if she could hear what he was thinking. Tony wouldn’t put it past her and her freaky ninja badass powers. He sniffed the plate and took a delicate, tiny bite. Chicken. Peas. Carrots. Some other veggies. Food, in other words. (It’s acceptable, I guess.) Tony took another bite. Steve grinned. (Don’t get too relieved, spangles. I’ve still eating some pizza.)  
  
“Tony Stark eating cat food. Will wonders never cease,” said Clint, winding cheese around his finger.  
  
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Clint,” scolded Bruce.  
  
“I think our friend is handling his transformation quite well. Fandral had to be given a sleeping potion in order to get him to calm down,” said Thor, shuffling pizza boxes around. For some reason, he refused to eat olives. Something about the Greeks and a mountain.  
  
Steve put some soda cans on the island counter and everyone snatched up their favorites with a few mutterings of thanks. Tony’s ears twitched at the small carbonated explosions that followed. The super solider picked up a slice of pineapple and Canadian bacon pizza. “Tony may be handling it well but we still need to track down Loki and get him to change Tony back as soon as possible. We’re vulnerable while one of our heavy hitters and fliers is out. Imagine what would happen if word got out that Iron Man was a cat?”  
  
Clint hissed through his teeth. “We’d be swarmed. Every crazy person in the city would crawl out of the woodwork.”  
  
Steve nodded, eating his pizza crust because he was a weirdo that refused to waste food. “We need to get Tony turned back into a human quick before New York’s criminal element finds out.”  
  
“Aye. I shall travel back to Asgard forthwith and ask Heimdall if he can see where Loki has slunk off to hide. I shall also speak with my mother. Next to Loki, Frigga is the most accomplished in the magical arts. She may know how to help,” said Thor. He guzzled down his can of root beer and let out a loud belch.  
  
“Good one, Thor,” praised Clint with a smirk. Natasha look unimpressed and Bruce just rolled his eyes.  
  
“Many thanks,” replied Thor with a grin.  
  
“Gentlemen,” scolded Steve. Tony licked his nose and fluffed his whiskers. (There aren’t any gentlemen at this table, Steve. You know better.) Bruce passed him a bit of crust and sauce with a hunk of pepperoni. (Thanks, science bro.)  
  
Thor stuffed a pizza slice into his mouth whole. This officially put his pizza total at two and a half pies. Not even close to a record. He swallowed and reached down to pick up Mjölnir. “I shall begin my journey now. Farewell, friends. I shall return soon and hopefully with good news.”  
  
“Thank you, Thor,” said Steve. Tony meowed in agreement.  
  
“It is the least I can do.” The god strode toward the elevator. “Steward, rise the elevator carriage to the roof.”  
  
“Of course, Thor,” said Jarvis. The blonde disappeared into the elevator. Tony jumped from the stool and then leapt up on the kitchen counter. He walked to the sink and put his front paws in, awkwardly half in and half out. He meowed and lashed his tail to the right and the faucet turned on. He stuck his nose into the stream and drank. Lapping sucked. Tony couldn’t wait until he had lips and thumbs again.


	3. THREE

A few minutes later, the Tower shook gently as Thor left Midgard, the Bifrost blooming open above the building and swooping down to snatch Thor from the roof. The static electricity in the air fizzled along Tony’s fur and he wiggled out of the sink. The faucet turned off. Steve condensed the leftover pizza into one box and put it in the fridge while Natasha tossed the remains of their pizza feast into the trash. Clint collected the empty soda cans and put them in the recycling bin.  Tony sat on the counter and began to wash himself, licking at a foreleg. “Tony, not on the kitchen counter. Get down,” scolded Steve, pushing gently at the cat’s side. Tony hissed at him, fangs bared.

“Steve, just leave him alone,” Bruce muttered tiredly.

“No, I gotta side with Cap on this one,” announced Clint. “I take exception to Tony licking himself while on a surface we prepare food on.” He looked at Natasha for support. “That’s just gross.”

Natasha shrugged her shoulder, giving Tony a bland look. “He’s kind of right.” Tony licked his nose and then jumped from the counter, hitting the floor with a loud thump.

“Thank you,” said Steve sincerely. “I’m trying not to be a pain but, just not on the kitchen counters please?” Tony turned his back to Steve, strolling leisurely out of the kitchen. His left ear flicked and his tail swept to the right in a wide arc.

“I shall do no such thing,” said Jarvis suddenly, sounding faintly scandalized.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “What won’t you do?”

“Nothing of importance, Agent Romanov. The delivery of cat supplies has arrived. If Captain Rogers and Agent Barton would go down to loading dock three and assist the men in bringing the items up, I would be most obliged,” the AI said.

“Of course, Jarvis. We’d be happy to help,” replied Steve.

“Oi, I don’t want to schlep anything up here. Stop volunteering other people for things,” protested Clint, getting up and following Steve to the elevator despite his words.

“Oh hush. It’s not going to hurt you to help.”

“Famous last words, Cap. Famous last words.” Steve rolled his eyes as the elevator door closed and whisked them away.

Natasha stared at Tony. The cat slowly blinked, the very tip of his tail twitching. Natasha’s face rearranged itself into a look of suspicion without any muscles or features actually moving. “I’m watching you, Tony,” warned the redhead. “Don’t think for a minute that I’m not watching you.” Tony twitched his whiskers and got up to wander toward the tall windows that overlooked the city. Warm sunlight washed over his black fur and Tony flopped over onto his side to soak it in. Natasha snorted.

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his hair. “I’m going down to my lab and see if the preliminary results of Tony’s tests have come in. Maybe we can learn at least something from them.” Natasha made an agreeable noise in her throat and Bruce stood. “Do you want to come with me, Tony?” he called. The cat answered by stretching, arching his back and reaching front and back legs out, before relaxing again. Tony let out a loud kitty sigh, chest rising and falling. “Suit yourself,” said Bruce, walking toward the elevator. It opened before he could reach it.

“Coming through!” shouted Clint as a large carpeted monstrosity was shoved out of the elevator. Bruce danced back away, retreating to the other side of the sofa. Clint and two other men in blue polo shirts, Pet World emblazed across the front, pushed the laden cart toward the windows. Tony sat up in interest.

“Jarvis, what is that?” demanded Natasha.

“Part of a cat tree, Agent Romanov,” replied the AI.

“Of course. And what is it doing here?”

“It is here so that Sir will have something to climb and lay on and hopefully not scratch the furniture with.” The black cat let out a loud, insulted meow. “I am sorry, Sir. My apologies. Of course you wouldn’t,” said Jarvis, sounding flat.

“What is that?” whispered one of the Pet World guys.

“Just ignore it,” the other guy hissed back. “If you tell us where you want the tree to be set up, we’ll begin putting it together for you,” he said in a louder voice.

“Here’s good. Right, J?” asked Clint, pointing vaguely to the area in front of the windows.

“There is acceptable,” answered the AI. The Pet World guy eyed the ceiling warily.

The elevator opened again and Steve and another Pet World worker pushed another cart load of cat tree components out. “I think this is the last of the big pieces,” announced Steve, eyeing the two carts. “Is this really necessary, Jarvis?”

“I believe so, Captain, yes.” The three Pet World guys pulled the cat tree parts off the carts and began to bolt and fasten them together. A power drill whined loudly. Soon, the tree grew above their heads and a small ladder was required for the workers to continue construction. The elevator opened again and a fourth Pet World guy pushed a cart full of plush boxes, fabric hammocks, and cushioned platforms out into the living room. A small mountain of plastic bags was stuffed in among the cat tree pieces. Tony watched with glowing golden eyes for a moment before getting up and slinking around the room to where Natasha was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He sat next to her, sort of hidden behind her legs. Natasha frowned down at him as his tail thumped against her ankles.

“That is one big cat tree,” muttered Bruce.

“Tony gets all the best toys,” complained Clint softly. Steve shushed them with a small shake of his head.

The last Pet World guy took out a clipboard and flipped through the pages. “It looks like an order for litter boxes and litter was canceled at the last minute,” he said questioningly. “Is this right?”

“That is right,” replied Jarvis. “It was revealed that the cat in question was toilet trained and won’t be needing a litter box.”

The Pet World worker blinked and took a slow look around the room, trying to locate the voice. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Well, even if the cat is toilet trained I suggest getting a least one litter box in case the cat has an accident or suddenly decides it doesn’t want to bother with the toilet.” He jumped a little as Tony gave a loud yowl, glaring at him from the kitchen doorway.

“I think we’ll be fine without one,” Steve replied politely with a bland smile.

The Pet World guy nodded, staring at the black cat sitting by the infamous Black Widow. Natasha gave him a sharp smile and the man pulled his gaze away. “Suit yourself. Everything else should be here; the water fountain and bowls, grooming supplies, the frankly stupid amount of toys.” Clint perked up from where he had draped himself over the back of the sofa. A crow’s nest was lifted from the cart and hoisted up onto a carpeted pillar on the cat tree by two of the Pet World workers.  The third guy was threading the ropes of a hammock through some holes. “I’m going to make one more run down to the truck to make sure we got everything,” he announced, shoving the clipboard under his arm. “Then we should be out of your hair and your little furry friend can start having fun.”

Steve stepped forward and held out his hand. “Thank you so much for delivering the pet items and putting the cat tree up.”

The other man turned red, shaking Steve’s hand. “It’s the least we could do for the Avengers. I didn’t even know you guys had a pet.”

“Recent acquirement,” replied Steve, smiling woodenly. Natasha snorted softly and Tony licked his nose, flicking an ear. Clint grinned.

The Pet World guy looked confused for a moment, knowing he was missing something but unable to tell what. At the kitchen doorway, Tony fluffed his whiskers in amusement. “Ah. Well, I’m gonna go check on the truck.” He disappeared into the elevator quickly. The drill squealed again, hanging a bridge between two pillars. One of the guys wiggled a cushion into a carpeted box. The Avengers watched awkwardly and the Pet World guys worked faster as they grew more nervous. Clint kept grinning like a loon until Bruce kicked the bottom of his shoe and the archer pouted, flopping back on the sofa out of sight.

The elevator opened and Pet World guy came back with his clipboard and a couple of plastic bags. He added the bags to the pile and took out a pen, pointing it as each bag and counting under his breath. He made several checkmarks on the clipboard. “That’s everything,” he announced. “Joe, how’s the tree coming along?”

“Almost there.” A platform with a hole cut out was bolted down to the highest pillar. Another worker was checking bolts with a wrench, giving them a few extra turns to make them really tight. A plush mouse on a string was tied to the edge of a platform and a cushion was placed in the crow’s nest. “And I think that’s it,” announced Joe. The other two guys began to pick up the plastic scattered around and packing up the tools.

Another checkmark was made to the clipboard. “Well, that’s it. If I could get someone’s signature on this delivery slip the guys and I will leave you in peace,” said the Pet World worker. He held his pen and his clipboard up in the air.

Nobody moved until Steve sighed with a roll of his eyes. “I can do that.” The relieved Pet World worker handed him the clipboard and pen and Steve scrawled his name across the bottom. “Thanks for bringing everything here and setting it up,” Steve said, giving the pen and clipboard back.

“Thank you for shopping at Pet World,” the man replied, an air of mindless repetition in his voice. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said more genuinely. The other three guys had picked up the debris from the cat tree and were guiding the empty carts back into the elevator. “Have a nice day!” The doors closed on his enthusiastic wave.

Natasha and Bruce immediately went to the cat tree, tugging and pulling and poking. It was sturdy enough and didn’t even wobble on its wide base. “Consumer reports and safety tests place this cat tree at the top of their scores,” Jarvis reassured them.

“Well, it seems like it should hold up against Tony,” muttered Bruce, running his fingers over some soft plush. Natasha hummed, testing bolts for secureness.

Clint went for the bags and boxes of stuff sitting on the floor, kneeling to paw through them. “Did you get anything good, Jarvis?”

“I do not know what would qualify as ‘good’ in your estimates, Agent Barton, but I purchased everything I thought Sir would need for his wellbeing and happiness,” replied the AI.

“Yeah, yeah. But what type of toys did you get?” Clint pulled a water fountain and a red bowl out of a bag. There were grooming tools and a pair of nail clippers, which Clint snorted at because none of them were holding Tony down so they could cut his claws, and some cat toothpaste and a little toothbrush, which was confusing because really? You could brush a cat’s teeth? “Here we go!” he crowed, pulling out some catnip mice and a plastic fishing pole with a fake fabric fish at the end. Then he gasped and dropped everything already in his hands to pull out the holy grail of cat toys. It was a red, white, and blue plushie of Captain America’s shield. “Oh baby,” praised Clint, hurriedly pulling off the tags.

“You have got to be pulling my leg,” Steve said tiredly.

“Aren’t those for dogs?” Bruce asked, confused.

“The website states that the Captain America shield plushie toy is suitable for both dogs and cats,” replied Jarvis, sounding completely serious and not at all like someone trolling their creator.

“Tony! Want to play? Come on, let’s play!” Clint then sent the toy shield sailing toward the cat, right over Tony’s head, and straight into the kitchen behind him. Tony sat there, not even turning his head to track the flight of the toy, giving Clint a baleful stare. Clint deflated, pouting. “You could have at least pretended to try and catch it,” he complained.

“He’s not a dog, Clint. Tony is not going to play fetch with you,” scolded Bruce. Tony turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Can we get a dog?” asked Clint in his best ‘I’m a four year old’ voice.

“Good Lord, no,” denied Steve, sounding horrified.

“Why would you inflict us on some poor innocent dog, Clint?” Natasha asked. Tony reappeared and they fell silent to watch the cat walk across the room and sit in front of Clint. The plushie shield was held in his mouth.

“Jarvis, take a picture,” Clint ordered, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Picture taken.” Tony glared at the archer, biting down on the shield in his mouth. They were all surprised by the sudden squeak. Tony’s ears lay back on his head. His jaw and fangs moved as he chewed on the toy. Squeak squeak.

“Oh my god. I can die happy now. Nothing will ever be better than this moment,” breathed Clint, a look of manic glee on his face. Tony tail lashed from side to side and then he got up to stalk over to the cat tree. He climbed up a ramp and ducked inside a house shaped carpeted box, curling up on the cushion hidden inside. Squeak squeak squeak. Clint lost it, bursting out laughing, practically howling with mirth. A full smile curled Natasha’s lips and Bruce bit his lip to control his chuckles. Squeak. Clint rolled over onto his side, helpless with laughter.

Steve rolled his eyes and picked the water fountain up off the floor. “I’m going to go set up Tony’s drinking fountain,” he informed everyone loudly, talking over the laugher. He headed into the kitchen to escape the hyenas that his teammates had turned into.

Clint lay on the floor, giggling quietly. Natasha folded herself gracefully down onto the floor and pulled a shopping bag toward herself. “There are a lot of toys, Jarvis,” Natasha observed, not really a question and not really a statement.

“I believe that everyone will agree with me that Sir being bored in his feline form would be very bad,” replied Jarvis.

Natasha hummed. “Good point.” She pulled out a handful of feathered and tasseled things and looked a little bemused. Then there was a long wand with a scrap of fake fur at the end. She used it to tickle the back of Clint’s neck. Natasha chuckled as Clint slapped at his neck and glared at her.

Steve came back into the living room and set the water fountain by the base of the cat tree. It burbled gently. “Anything else interesting in there?” he asked, sounding as if he dreaded the answer a little.

Bruce was flipped through a book, a soft eyed cat on the cover. “It looks like Jarvis got a couple of cat care books too.”

“Really? That’s good,” replied Steve, going to look over Bruce’s shoulder. Steve felt woefully unprepared to care for his teammate. Perhaps some research was in order.

Clint made a dismissive puffing noise. “I already know how to care for cats.”

“Big circus cats do not count,” disagreed Natasha, brushing the furry cat toy over his ear.

Clint swatted at it. “Will you stop! And I’m sure it’s all the same thing.”

“I doubt throwing Tony a big T-bone steak will work the same way it did with the tigers.” Inside the cat tree house, Tony gave a loud yowl, followed by a couple of squeaks from the shield toy.

Clint grinned. “I think Tony likes the steak idea just fine.”

“I don’t think giving Tony so much red meat would be a good idea,” said Bruce, consulting the cat care book. “It says here that domestic cats need a varied diet.”

“We should probably stick with the meals from the pet boutique. Tony seemed to at least like it,” Steve added. Tony made some sort of sound inside his hiding place. It sounded very close to a cat fake gagging. They ignored him.

“Sir? Miss Potts has arrived,” announced Jarvis. All of the Avengers grimaced at the same time.

“Oops,” muttered Clint, sitting up from his sprawl across the floor.

The elevator opened and Pepper came striding out in a pale blue suit, a tense look on her face. “Where is he? Is he alright?” she demanded, heels clicking sharply on the wooden floors. “Is he really a…” The black cat stuck his head out of the cat tree house and meowed. Pepper’s gaze zeroed in on him and her face fell. “A cat. Oh, Tony.” Tony meowed again and jumped from the tree to the floor. He trotted over to the stunned woman and danced up on his back legs to paw at her skirt. “Oh, Tony,” muttered Pepper again faintly. She elegantly bent down and scooped the cat up, hands under his front legs and around his ribcage. “I can’t believe you got yourself turned into a cat. What am I going to tell the board? What if the press finds out? This is a mess. The shareholders are going to have a fit. The head of Stark Industries has been turned into a cat. A cat! Oh, Tony.” Tony lay his ears back on his head and let himself dangle like a wet noddle from Pepper’s hands. That was a lot of ‘oh Tony’-s.

“Miss Potts, I really must insist you hold Sir correctly. It cannot be comfortable for him to hang like that,” requested Jarvis.

Pepper started. “Oh. Of course. Sorry,” she said distractedly. She turned him until Tony was lying upside down in her arms, like a baby. Tony let out an irritated sigh, forcing himself to stay still in the vulnerable position. Well, at least his butt wasn’t swinging in the air anymore.

“I assure you, Miss Potts, we are doing everything we can to get Tony turned back into a human. Thor has already left for Asgard to see what his people can do about the spell Loki placed on Tony and in the morning we’ll begin scouring the city for any clues as to the trickster’s whereabouts,” said Steve, hiding the 101 cat care book behind his back.

“We will?” muttered Clint quietly. Natasha whacked him lightly in the shoulder with the toy wand.

“I know you’ll do everything you can for Tony,” Pepper fairly snapped. “It’s just… This shouldn’t have happened in the first place! Tony, you promised that you would be more careful, that you would try to stay safe but instead you tried your best to rile Loki up and look where your behavior got you?” Tony closed his eyes and tried to curl up into a ball, like a roly-poly on its back. Pepper deflated, looking worn down. “And now you’re shedding all over my suit,” she muttered listlessly. She collapsed into a chair, turning Tony right side up and sitting him in her lap. She petted him lightly between his ears and Tony meowed softly, purring quietly. “What am I going to do with you, Tony? You can’t keep doing this to me. I can’t take it.” Tony gave another tiny meow.

Clint and Natasha were hidden by the sofa but Steve and Bruce shifted awkwardly where they stood, Bruce staring fixedly at the cat care book in his hands and Steve looking everywhere but at the woman and cat sitting nearby. Pepper glanced up and straightened, blinking rapidly. “Looks like I’ll be cleaning up your mess, Mr. Stark. Again,” she said, her tone more teasing. Tony gave an indignant meow. Pepper snorted and scooped Tony up to set him gently on the floor. “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone gullible enough to believe you. I need to go run your company, Tony, and try to control the fallout of suddenly having a feline head of R&D.” Pepper glanced down at her clothing and brushed uselessly at the black fur stuck there. “And find a lint roller somewhere,” she muttered. “Steve?” The super solider snapped to attention. “I expect you to take good care of Tony while he’s a cat, understand?”

Steve nodded. “Of course ma’am. Tony will be in the best of hands.”

“I’m sure,” Pepper said in an odd tone of voice. She looked slightly pained. Pepper cleared her throat and leaned down to give Tony one more pat. “We’ll talk later,” she said softly to him. Tony meowed back and then Pepper was striding to the elevator, the click of her heels loud, and disappeared inside of it. Tony’s ears and tail drooped and he picked himself up to wander slowly back to his cat tree and into the carpeted house.

Clint picked at a hole in his jeans, scowling down at his knee. “It’s not totally Tony’s fault. It’s not like he turned himself into a cat on purpose. He had some damn help,” the archer grumbled. Natasha lifted the toy wand and Clint flinched, expecting to be bopped a good one, but Natasha lowered it without hitting him. He shifted in discomfort. “Did they just breakup?” Clint muttered.

“No,” replied Natasha. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “But I think a breakup might be soon in the future.”

“Oh boy,” murmured Bruce, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Steve looked worried and went over to the cat tree, kneeling down to put himself at level with the carpeted house. “Tony?” he asked gently. “Are you alright?” He looked through the hole and saw two golden eyes squinting back at him. “Tony?” The cat rolled over, putting his back to Steve and lying his head down on the plushie Captain America shield. It gave a pitiful squeak. “I’m so sorry, Tony,” Steve muttered, reaching in to carefully stroke the furry back. Tony curled up into a tighter ball and Steve sighed, pulling his hand out and standing. “Natasha, can you help me create a detailed grid of the city? I want to make sure we leave no stone unturned when we search for Loki in the morning.”

“We’re really going to search the whole city for Loki?” whined Clint. Natasha smacked him with the wand toy again. “Ow! Damn it, cut that out!”

Steve glared at him. “Yes, we’re really going to search the whole city for Loki. Until Thor gets back from Asgard, Loki is our only hope of turning Tony back into a human.”

“No more cool arrows until Tony gets turned back into a human. You’ll have to use the mass produced arrows from SHIELD,” Natasha said calmly.

Clint’s eyes widened. “No,” he moaned. “Anything but that. I’ll help search. You don’t have to be so horrible about it.”

“I’m glad we have your cooperation,” Steve said drily. “Bright and early tomorrow morning?”  Natasha and Clint nodded. “Bruce, I assume you’ll want to stay here?”

Bruce gave a crooked smile, hands fiddling with the corners of a cat care book. “I think that’s probably best. The Hulk might be willing to look for Loki but he’d probably level half the city doing it.”

Steve nodded agreeably. “Then Natasha, Clint, and I will begin searching the city at dawn tomorrow.”

Clint groaned. “Coffee. I’m going to need so much damn coffee.”


	4. FOUR

It was late at night when Tony finally crept out of the carpeted house and jumped down from the cat tree. He sniffed around the water fountain (Meh. I could build better in my sleep.) and took a deep drink. Licking water off his whiskers, Tony trotted over to the bathroom. He lifted one paw toward the doorway (Open Sesame!) and Jarvis was kind enough to open it and turn the light on inside. The cat did his business into the toilet bowel, still feeling utterly ridiculous, and flushed the evidence of his humiliation down the pipes. Tony jumped down and strutted from the bathroom, tail swinging. (Oh, who’s too sexy for their fur? Yeah, I’m too sexy for my fur!) Tony went over to the elevator, waving a paw at it (Use the force, Luke!), and went inside to sit primly in the center.

“Workshop, Sir?” asked Jarvis. Tony meowed, tail flicking. (You know it, buddy.) The doors closed and the elevator began to drop toward the basement. Tony left the elevator and trotted happily down the hallway toward his workshop. The door to the workshop, however, caused him some pause. (Crap. Biometrics scanner. Double crap.) Tony sat in the hallway and regarded the pad high above his head on which he was meant to place his hand; his very human and with a thumb hand. Which he currently did not have. (Damnation!) “If you will allow me a moment, Sir, I believe we can work around this,” Jarvis said.

(I am not getting one of the others to let me into my own workshop! I will fucking crawl through the vents like Clint before I do that!) Tony let out a growl, hunching over and scowling. He jumped a little when a blue scanning light suddenly flashed above the workshop door and passed over him. (Holy shit! When did I put that there? Did I put that there? Please tell me I wasn’t drunk building shit again.) “Scan verified; Anthony Edward Stark,” intoned Jarvis. The door swished open and Tony bounded inside. (Fuck yeah! You are awesome, J!)

The lights flickered on and Tony looked around curiously from his new vantage point. (Ugh. Does it always smell like this in here? This place is getting a major cleaning when I’m back to normal.) Grease and dust assaulted the cat’s delicate nose. There was an undercurrent of hot metal and burnt plastic with just a hint of decomposing something. Tony sneezed. (Might have to put some air purifiers in here.) There was a whirling sound behind him and Tony turned, his tail puffing up. (Oh shit.)

Dummy stopped and lowered his claw, rotating the head as he looked at the little cat in curiosity. (Wow, you are so very much bigger than I am. Do not break me, you bucket of bolts!) “Yes, Dummy,” Jarvis said. “That is Sir. He has been turned into a domestic feline by Loki. Be very gentle with him. He is delicate.” (Oh! I resent that!) Dummy beeped and began to dip his claw toward the cat. (Oh crap. I’m a dead man. Kitty. Wherever.  Do not let Clint choose the epitaph for my headstone. He’s an ass.) Tony cringed, ears flattened on his head, and waited.

Very gently, like a dandelion puff, Dummy touched his claw to the top of the cat’s head and stroked backward between the ears. Claw up. Claw down. Stroke. Tony opened one eye. (Huh. I’m not a pancake. What do ya know!) Claw up. Claw down. Stroke. “Very good, Dummy,” praised Jarvis. Claw up. Claw down. Stroke. Despite himself, Tony began to purr. Dummy paused, chirping a question. “It is called purring. It is a sign that Sir is pleased,” explained Jarvis. Dummy let out a happy squeal. Claw up. Claw down. Stroke. (Yeah yeah. Don’t wet yourself. I don’t have any way to clean up the oil.) Tony relaxed, settling himself down into classic kitty-loaf position, tucking his feet under his body and curling his tail alongside. Claw up. Claw down. Stroke.

Tony wondered if all cats felt like this when they were being petted. He felt content and fuzzy, as if he had been drinking a really fine scotch and was at that place between buzzed and drunk where every muscle in his body was loose and warm. It was a state of being he spent a lot of time chasing, more than he would admit even to himself. Tony felt as if he could have happily allowed Dummy to pet him until the world ended. He was relaxed and kind of sleepy, his nose almost touching the floor. “Sir? Are you alright?” asked Jarvis.

Tony lifted his head and blinked. (Wha?) “You have allowed Dummy to pet you for 13 minutes now and we’re not used to you being so still for so long,” explained Jarvis. Dummy cheeped worriedly. “Are you feeling well? Should I summon one of the others?” Tony yawned, unfolding into a stretch. Stretching as a cat felt awesome as every bone and muscle realigned.  (I’m fine, Jarvis. Just enjoying myself.) Tony flicked a paw. “If you say so, Sir,” relented Jarvis.

Tony jumped up onto a stool and then hopped over onto the table top. The computer screens in front of him were dark and he gave a loud meow. The hum of awakening technology filled the room and Tony gave a satisfied kitty smirk as the computers came to life, blinking on one by one. He lifted one paw and swished it across the table, the keyboard he designed specifically for his needs an as engineer glowing in blue. He touched a careful claw to the corner and dragged it outward, enlarging it enough that his paws could touch a single key without triggering the ones next to it by accident. Ugh, not having fingers was awkward as all hell.

Tony raised his right paw above his head, which felt odd with a cat’s shoulder, and swept it down through the air. “Pulling up main file system,” intoned Jarvis. The air above the table filled with rows upon rows of little hologram file folders. Tony scrolled through, looking for a project to occupy his time with, moving his paw up and down and from side to side. Jarvis dutifully followed the motions of Tony’s dominate ‘hand’, just as he always had.

The left leg repulsor had felt a little slow the last time he’d been out. Tony itched to crack the casing open and take a peek inside to see what was going on in there but knew he couldn’t make repairs without thumbs and there was no way come hell or high water he was letting the bots at his armor.  With a sigh, Tony pulled up a project he had been fiddling with for some time for Clint, a type of super sticky substance that would discharge when the arrowhead met its target. They needed more non-lethal ways of subduing low level criminals and confused civilians stumbling through their battlefield. But the pressure release system that Tony had been using kept getting stuck, ironically by the same substance that the arrow was meant to carry, and it jammed before all of the glue could be ejected.

“No, Dummy. I said a dish of water. Sir is not going to want a smoothie while as a cat,” said Jarvis, exasperation in his voice. Tony looked up from the arrow diagram to find the bot carefully setting a bowl on the tabletop. The dish was filled with a bright green sludge. Feeling indulgent toward the excitable metal arm, Tony went over to give the drink a sniff. The cat sneezed and jerked back. “I wouldn’t, Sir. He added motor oil again. How many times must we tell you that flesh and blood beings cannot ingest motor oil, Dummy? It will make them sick.” Dummy’s arm dipped toward the floor and he gave a sad little beep.

(Poor Dummy.) Tony walked to the edge of the table and patted the bot’s metal arm with a paw. (You just can’t catch a break, can you?) Dummy gave a dejected little waffle.

“Take the dish back to the kitchenette, Dummy. We’ll try again,” instructed Jarvis. Dummy picked up the bowel, spilling a little of the green sludge on the floor, and rolled back to the tiny kitchen set up in the corner.

Tony chuckled, which sounded like chattering in his cat form, and went back to the arrow diagram. Perhaps a capsule of the sticky substance inside the arrow would work? Something that would dissolve or break apart as soon as it was exposed to air and would release the substance without coating the arrow itself. He was going to have to talk with Bruce about this. He was man enough to admit that the other scientist had a slightly better grasp of chemistry than he did. Well, cat enough at the moment but you get the idea. Tony used a claw to focus the hologram projection on the arrow head and began to type out a series of commands using the keyboard. This would be so much easier if he could just dictate what he wanted to Jarvis and have the AI make the changes. As it was, the release mechanism slowly changed shape under Tony’s laborious direction. (God, this is fucking annoying.)

Dummy returned to the table and set down a bowl of clear liquid. Tony gave it a suspicious look. It could be anything from actual water to vodka to lighter fluid. “It is safe to drink, Sir. It’s just water,” announced Jarvis. Tony meowed up at Dummy, which seemed to please the bot, and walked over to take a few laps of the water. Dummy beeped and wheeled off to grab the broom and start sweeping the floor. He always did that when he was happy, crazy bucket of bolts. Tony licked at his nose and went back to the arrow diagram. Perhaps it needed a rounded cap instead of a flat one?

Tony tapped out a few commands, furry face focused in concentration, when some movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The next thing the cat knew, he was flattened against the table top and staring fixedly at the cable Dummy was waving in the air. “Dummy, don’t be rude,” scolded Jarvis. Dummy beeped and swung the cable closer to the table. Before Tony could stop himself, his little black butt wiggled and he gave a mighty spring toward the tantalizing object. (Die!) Tony flailed through the air, paws whacking against the cable, before landing on the floor with a thump. Dummy lowered the cable so the end just touched the floor and took off across the workshop. Tony scrambled on the concrete and took off like a shot after the bot. “Oh dear,” muttered Jarvis.

Dummy careened past the half disassembled roadster, Tony in hot pursuit. Something had clicked over in his head. Some feline instinct had submerged his human brain and taken over. The cable was prey and play and all the good things in the world and it must die. Tony wasn’t even aware the he and the bot were galloping around the workshop, Dummy just keeping the cable out of the cat’s reach as Tony lunged and tried to sink his claws into it. (Gonna get it. Gonna get it. Gonna get it.)

“Dummy, be careful!” demanded Jarvis as Dummy knocked over a tool box. Tony leapt the debris with ease, wide golden eyes focused and determined. Dummy rounded the ratty sofa and Tony flung himself over the furniture after him. “Sir? Sir, this is inadvisable,” Jarvis said, sounding anxious.

Dummy bumped a table and several tools dropped to the floor, clanging against the concrete floor like a church tower full of bells. Tony screeched to halt, cringing as the sound blasted through his sensitive ears. He flattened his ears to his head and dove under a low table, huddling in the shadows with a pounding heart. (Holy shit! What the hell was that?)

“Dummy, stop!” ordered Jarvis, voice firm. The bot rolled to a stop, turning his arm and beeping in confusion as he saw his playmate had seemingly disappeared. Dummy whined. “Sir is under the table, Dummy. You did not roll over him and squish him,” replied Jarvis. The AI sounded a touch frosty. (Oops. We’re in trouble.) Tony edged forward to poke his head out from under the shelter. “There shall be no more of that. It is much too dangerous to be racing around the workshop in such a manner,” announced Jarvis. Dummy hung his head, the cable dropping to the floor. “Now, clean up your mess and behave.” Dummy rolled forward despondently, cheeping softly. “Yes, we shall figure out a way for you to play with Sir that is not so dangerous. Do not sulk,” replied Jarvis, exasperated. (Did I program Jarvis to express exasperation? I can’t remember.) Dummy beeped and picked a wrench up off the floor, setting it delicately on top of the table.

Tony wiggled out from under the table and trotted over to Dummy to press his nose against the bot’s claw. (It’s okay, Dummy. I had fun.) The feline licked the metal with his little pink tongue. (Don’t be sad, buddy.) Dummy tooted and patted Tony on the head a tad bit harder than was comfortable. Thump, thump, thump. (Yes, thank you for that.)

“Dummy, the mess,” prompted Jarvis. Dummy bent his head and placed a rubber mallet back on the table. The bot than began to pick a pile of spilled screws up one by one, his claw struggling to grasp each tiny piece of metal. Tony grimaced. (Geez, when I get my thumbs back we are looking at your mobility, Dummy. I’m getting frustrated just watching you.) “Sir, the rendering for the new arrow design is done,” announced Jarvis. Tony patted Dummy on his chassis and then jumped back up onto the table he had been sitting on before the impromptu game of chase.

Tony’s stomach grumbled and with practiced ease, he ignored it. Dinner had been over nine hours ago but the engineer had gone longer without food. The cat’s tail lashed from side to side as the simulation still showed the arrow’s release mechanism getting jammed by the sticky substance. He was going to have to put an internal delivery system inside the arrow, there was no other way. It was getting to the point where Tony was tempted to scrap the whole idea and just tell Natasha to start shooting people in the legs. (I can just image how Steve would love that!) He tapped a few more commands using the keyboard, listening to Dummy painstakingly transfer each screw from the floor to the other table top with tiny plinks.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is looking for you,” said Jarvis some minutes later. “Shall I inform him where you are? He seems quite concerned.” (Well, speak of the devil and he will appear.) Tony flicked an ear and waved his left paw to the side. “Thank you, Sir.” (Yeah, yeah. Steve always was your favorite. I never thought you’d cheat on me with Spangles of all people.) Tony carefully typed out a few more commands, the image of the arrow slowly rotating in the air.

The door hissed open, making Tony’s ears swivel around at the sound. “There you are,” said Steve, sounded very relieved. He was already dressed in his Captain America uniform, although the shield was absent. The blond took a few steps inside and then paused. “What happened in here?” he asked, looking around at the mess. Dummy gave an irritated beep, pausing in his work to rotate his claw at the man.

“Everything is fine, Captain,” replied Jarvis a touch shortly. Tony flinched a little. Sometimes he thought he had patterned the AI a little too well after the old Jarvis. That was exactly the tone of disappointed ‘you know better than that’ he had heard as a child all the time. That was just…no. Just no. Tony scowled, ears twitching on top of his head.

 “Ok,” Steve said slowly, aware there were landmines present but unable to tell where. “Tony, do you want some breakfast before the others and I leave?” Tony ignored him, running the arrow through another simulation. The weapon struck the virtual wall and dropped to the virtual ground, not deploying at all. Tony growled and stabbed a paw at the keyboard. The arrow hologram crumpled into a ball, complete with satisfying crumpling sounds, and catapulted itself into a virtual trashcan with a bong. (Black Widow shooting people it is then! I’m sure she’ll be pleased.)

“Tony? Are you ok?” asked Steve, concerned by the cat’s behavior.

“One of Sir’s projects is not working as it should, Captain,” replied Jarvis as Tony hunched on top of the table and glared. “I’m afraid he’s not in the best of moods.” Tony growled. (Nobody asked you, Benedict Arnold!)

“Maybe he should take a break and have some breakfast then,” announced Steve. (I do not want any damn brea… Hey!) Tony yowled as Steve scooped him up off the table from behind. (Put me down this instant!) The cat flailed in Steve’s arms, claws useless against the tough uniform. The blond merely tucked the feline against his chest and walked out of the workshop. Panic trickled cold through Tony’s blood, logic and calm battered away. Tony clawed and kicked and wiggled to no affect, hissing and growled like a badly taken care of lawnmower. “Calm down, Tony. I won’t hurt you,” said Steve soothingly. (No but I’m going to eviscerate you! Put me down!) Someone was taking him somewhere he didn’t want to go, had picked him up like a sack of potatoes without a single by-your-leave. (Stop it! No! No! No!) He was too small. He was defenseless. A type of darkness drifted across Tony’s mind. The cat tried to sink his fangs into Steve’s hand but the ingrate was wearing his gloves. “What’s wrong Tony?” Steve asked as they neared the elevator.

“Sir, please calm down. Captain Rogers doesn’t mean anything by his actions,” Jarvis tried to sooth. Tony yowled like a banshee and flailed around even harder. “Captain, I do think you will have to put Sir down. He isn’t going to calm down until you do.” Wide eyed, Steve did as told and placed Tony gently on the floor. Tony ran forward a few steps before whirling around and with a yowl like a warrior’s yell, lunged toward Steve’s leg. He dug his claws into the blond’s thigh, making sure one paw was clawing a very delicate area, but Steve just stared down at him in surprise. The Captain America costume was just too much for a domestic kitty to get through. (God damn it all to hell!) Tony detached himself and dropped to the floor, sprinting for the elevator. He gave a loud meow as he raced inside and the doors closed, the carriage beginning to rise.

“What was that all about?” asked Steve, intense confusion in his voice.

“It might not have been a good idea to pick Sir up from behind, Captain. He has…issues that have probably been exasperated by being turned into a small feline,” replied Jarvis.

Steve frowned. “What issues?”

“It’s complicated.” The elevator carriage returned and the doors opened again. “The others are gathered on the common floor,” Jarvis said in obvious invitation. Steve sighed and entered the elevator, allowing it to carry him up.

The elevator opened and Steve stepped out into the shared living room, the tall cat tree dominating the far side of the room. The predawn light was glowing softly grey through the windows. Clint turned surprised eyes toward him from where he was kneeling backwards on the sofa. “What did you do to Stark? He came flying through here like a bat out of hell!”

“All I did was pick him up,” answered Steve defensively . What was the big hairy deal?

“Captain Rogers made the mistake of picking Sir up from behind. Sir did not react well,” supplied Jarvis. Natasha made a soft noise in her throat and stood, tossing the magazine she had been reading onto the coffee table. She calmly headed up the stairs to the private elevator that lead to the Avengers’ private levels, including the penthouse. The elevator opened for her and then closed behind her without prompting.

Clint made a face, as if he smelt something unpleasant, and flopped around to sit properly on the sofa. “Yeah, that would have done it.”

“Done what?” demanded Steve.

“Picking Stark up from behind would have set off his issues.” Clint picked up the remote and began to flip through TV channels.

“What issues?” Steve snapped.

“Trust issues, mostly, and a whole shebang of other crap I’m sure Stark should be talking to someone about but doesn’t.”

“Trust issues?” echoed Steve, brow frowning. “Do you mean he doesn’t trust us? Trust me? I would never hurt him.” He felt insulted, for one, and more than a touch angry and annoyed. All he had done was pick the cat up and suddenly he felt like a bad guy.

Clint regarded him almost lazily. “He trusts us to a certain point,” the archer said slowly. “I mean, we are living in his home and, more often than not, Jarvis will let us into Stark’s workshop. That shows a level of trust. But you have to remember Steve, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months now. We’ve saved the world together and everything but we all have our little hang-ups and that’s just not going to go away automatically. So, yeah, Tony Stark has trust issues and you had the bad luck of triggering one just now. No big. Tasha will talk Stark out of whatever dark hole he’s hiding in and then we can start looking for Loki.” The archer shrugged and turned his attention back toward the TV.

Steve gave a frustrated sigh and left for the kitchen. The 21st century had nothing on the confusion he felt when dealing with his teammates.


	5. FIVE

Natasha was a little surprised when the elevator opened for her, although she didn’t show it. She stepped inside and the doors closed and the carriage began to rise, all without Natasha saying a word. That was interesting. She hadn’t been completely sure that Jarvis would allow Natasha up into the penthouse. There was still that infiltrating Stark Industries and profiling business a few years ago when the reactor had been poisoning Tony that they hadn’t worked through yet. She hadn’t thought the AI would see her as a trustworthy person after that. But the criteria that Jarvis used when allowing other people access to his creator when Tony was vulnerable was still a mystery to the redheaded spy.  
  
The elevator stops and the doors open. Natasha steps out into the penthouse, the lights already on. She cast a lazy glance around the kitchen and living room. Time for a little test. “Jarvis, where is he?”  
  
There is a noticeable hesitation and Natasha knows that Jarvis is giving one last consideration to his actions. “Under the bed in the bedroom, Miss Romanoff,” the AI replies. Natasha visible pauses at that. They had all offered for Jarvis to call them by their first names before, which the AI had never done, but this was also the first time that Jarvis had ever called Natasha anything other than Agent Romanoff. He had also given up Tony’s location without Natasha having to dig. That was also very interesting.  
  
Natasha crossed the living room and entered the bedroom, going straight over to the bed and kneeling down. She pulled the blanket out of her way and looked under the bed, eyes narrowed against the shadows. She focused on a spot of black darker than the rest of the black under the bed. “You know he didn’t mean anything by it,” Natasha said calmly. Two golden eyes appeared in the gloom, right where Natasha was looking. “Steve wouldn’t understand why being approached from behind would frighten you. He wouldn’t get why being picked up, being touched without permission while you’re small and vulnerable would freak you out. He didn’t mean to hurt you, to scare you like that.” Natasha didn’t pull any punches, speaking truths that she knew where hard for Tony to hear. The cat closed his eyes again, disappearing back into the dark. Natasha forced herself to not roll her eyes. God forbid Tony admit to being scared, even though he had perfectly valid reasons for being so. And if the Black Widow thought you had valid reasons for being sacred, that was saying something.  
  
“Steve’s not angry with you. He’s just a little confused and a lot concerned,” Natasha said. Tony opened his eyes again. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to believe it but Steve is kind of fond of you.” The two golden eyes under the bed moved as Tony lifted his head. “You two got off on a rocky start. Steve feels bad about how he reacted when you first meet. I know you feel bad about how you acted.” A soft meow and Natasha nodded as if Tony had spoken in perfectly understandable English. “Tensions were high, we were all being effected by Loki’s Glow Stick of Destiny.” The golden eyes squinted and Natasha hoped that meant amusement. She didn’t want that glow stick joke to be wasted. It was hard reading the body language of a feline.  
  
“We all said things we didn’t mean but we’ve been doing this clubhouse thing for almost a year now and I think we’re doing well. Steve is seeing you for who you are, Bruce is coming out of his shell, and you’re becoming more comfortable having so many people in your space and actually accepting help from us. Hell, Clint fell asleep during the last movie night when we were all crowded around him watching The Princess Bride for the millionth time. I don’t think you understand how big a thing that is. I know you’re particularly sensitive right now, being small and furry.” There was an insulted meow that Natasha ignored. “You can’t talk to us and we’re stuck guessing at what you want. But my point is that Steve didn’t mean to scare you and he’s not going to let us leave to look for Loki before he personally sees you eat something, so if you want any chance of eating dinner with a fork and knife, I suggest you sulk later and come out.” There, Natasha Romanoff brand tough love.  
  
Natasha rolled off her knees to sit up against the side of the bed, waiting. Tony would either come out from under the bed or they would waste a whole day not searching for Loki while Tony sulked and felt ashamed and angry for freaking out because Steve crossed a line the super solider didn’t even know was there. She was surprised when not even a full minute later the black cat crawled out from under the bed and sat next to her. Huh. Looks like Tony could be mature if he wanted to. “May I pet you?” Natasha asked. Tony nodded and Natasha lifted a hand to rub behind his ears. A purr started up from the small body and Tony tilted his head into her palm. “You ready for some breakfast?” Tony meowed in agreement and Natasha stood.  
  
Natasha went back to the elevator, Tony trotting along beside her. She might have offered to carry him but thought his pride might be too sore to accept it. Back on the common floor, Clint was eating a donut from a pink bakery box sitting on the coffee table. “Where did you get donuts from?” demanded Natasha. Tony sauntered off into the kitchen where Steve was sulking.  
  
“Jarvis had the place across the street bring some over,” the archer replied, chocolate frosting all around his mouth. Clint swallowed and licked his lips clean while Natasha gave him a faintly disgusted look. “There’s a Boston Crème in there if you want it.”  
  
“Ooo,” Natasha said gleefully. She plucked the fried dough and custard pastry from the box and sat in the arm chair with her prize, turning her attention to the Loony Toons cartoons playing on the TV.  
  
Tony entered the kitchen quietly, finding the super solider sitting at the island and staring pensively into his coffee cup. (Coffee that Steve drank black and without sugar, the weirdo.) Steve was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Tony could see his jaw moving. It was a habit the blond had when he was feeling worried or nervous or overwhelmed. Tony went around the other wide of the island and jumped onto a stool, digging his claws in so he didn’t slide off. Steve didn’t notice, focused on the depths of his cup. Tony let out a loud meow and Steve’s head jerked up. “Tony!” Steve gasped. Then he seemed to rein himself in. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking and I’m sorry I startled you. I know your uncomfortable being a cat and I shouldn’t have just picked you up like that. I guess I forgot you’re not really a cat. I promise I won’t take any more … um… liberties with your person. Don’t worry, we’ll track down Loki and have him change you back. Ok?”  
  
Tony doubted Steve knew how ‘taking liberties with your person’ sounded to the modern mind but the blond was staring so earnestly at the cat and Tony remembered what Natasha had said about Steve not understanding. Tony gave a nod, meowing softly. Steve smiled, looking relieved. Nobody wanted to go back to the tension and snipping that had been their first few weeks of cohabitation. “Want some breakfast?” Steve asked. Tony nodded again and watched as Steve leapt up to go to the fridge, pulling out the half used tub of boutique cat food. The cat fought down a shudder.  
  
Steve scooped the rest of the cat food out onto a plate and zapped it in the microwave, stirring it once to avoid hot spots. He almost bent to put it on the floor but stopped himself at the last second and set the plate on the kitchen island in front of Tony instead. He looked slightly sheepish and Tony twitched his whiskers in amusement. At least he was learning. The cat sniffed the food, just in case it had mutated overnight or something, but it still smelled like meat and veggies and Tony was hungry. Grudgingly, he ate it.  
  
When the cat was done, Steve removed the plate and rinsed it off before putting it in the dishwasher. (Never mind that they had told him a million times that he didn’t need to rinse off the dishes before putting it into the dishwasher. Tony’s dishwasher was better than any big box store bought dishwasher found in a common American home. The genius had built it himself, after all.) Tony licked his whiskers and then began to wash his paws, unable to resist the urge to bath himself after eating. He tried not to think too hard about the fact he was licking himself all over, and not in a fun sexy times way. There was a long silence in the kitchen and Tony eventually paused as he became uncomfortable, looking up mid-lick. Steve was staring at him, an odd look on his face. Tony meowed questioningly, cocking his head, and Steve blinked, seeming to startle himself awake.  
  
“We’re wasting time. We need to leave and begin our search for Loki,” Steve announced. He reached back over his shoulder and pulled his cowl up over his head. Suddenly, Steve transformed into Captain American and strode from the kitchen. Tony licked his nose, confused by the blond’s behavior. For a moment, Steve had looked almost ... fond. The black cat jumped from the stool and trotted out into the living room.  
  
Natasha was doing a last check on her weapons, fingers graceful and quick over her belt and suit pockets. Clint was wiping his mouth on a napkin, chewing furiously with cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Steve had come out barking like a bulldog just as Clint had bit into a jelly donut and the archer had quickly shoved the rest of it in his mouth in alarm. Now he glared at Cap while he tried to brush powdered sugar from his vest. “Ready,” said Natasha. Clint let out some disgruntled mutters but hoisted his bow and quiver up onto his shoulder.  
  
“Let’s go,” ordered Steve, picking up his shield from where it was leaning against the back of the chair. “We’re several hours behind schedule.” Tony raced out of the kitchen and leapt upon the sofa, meowing, but Steve ignored him and went to the elevator. The cat looked at Natasha but the redhead just shrugged.  
  
Clint patted Tony roughly on the head, the cat taking a halfhearted swipe at his hand, flashing his fangs playfully. “We’ll be back later, Tony-kitty,” Clint singsonged, walking away. Tony gave him a parting hiss.  
  
“Jarvis, let Bruce know that we’re heading out,” Steve said as Natasha and Clint joined him in the elevator, “and remind him to please look after Tony.”  
  
“Of course, Captain,” replied Jarvis. Tony stared at the three in the elevator from the back of the sofa.  
  
“Thank you,” Steve said. The elevator doors closed, whisking them away to the garage level. Tony stayed on the sofa, his tail twitching in agitation.  
  
“Sir? Are you alright?” asked Jarvis, sounding slightly concerned. Tony nodded, licking at his paw and smoothing down his fur. “Would you like to return to the workshop, Sir? Dr. Banner is currently in the middle of a set of experiments and I do not believe he would like company.” Tony remembered the samples Bruce had taken and that the cat had patiently, well, not so patiently really, sat through. Bruce would be playing with his toys for some time. Tony thought about going back down to the workshop, spend some more time with Dummy and see what other ideas he could come up with, but not being able to build, being only able to do some designing and theoretical work, was growing frustrating. Being without thumbs and covered in fur was becoming a real drag.  
  
Tony shook his head and jumped down from the sofa. He’d been in the workshop all night and, oddly, what he really wanted was some sleep. Didn’t cats sleep for like half the day or something like that? Tony climbed the ramp of the cat tree and slipped into the carpeted house. The Captain America plush toy was still inside and Tony pawed at it until it was in the right position before curling up around it, using it as a pillow. The cat sighed and closed golden eyes, falling into easy sleep.  
  
When Tony next awoke, it was midafternoon.  He yawned and stretched. The shield toy squeaked as Tony stepped on it by accident and he batted the plush into the corner of the carpeted house. He walked out onto the platform, blinking sleepily, and flicked a paw. “It is 2:36pm, Sir,” Jarvis answered dutifully. Tony yawned again, twitching his tail and rotating his ears. “Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, and Miss Romanoff have yet to return to the Tower. Their radio communications place them in the Lower East Side, near Chinatown.” Tony paused, lifting his head from licking at his shoulder. He chittered and cocked his head. “Recent events have led me to upgrade Miss Romanoff to level 3 security authorization. Do you not agree with this assessment?” Tony thought for a moment and then shook his head, waving a paw before jumping down from the cat tree. “Very good, Sir,” replied Jarvis.  
  
Tony swung by the bathroom to do his business, grumbling in annoyance. This was embarrassing and Tony just knew he was eventually going to fall into the toilet bowl and then he would need a proper bath in a tub because there was no way in hell he was licking himself after that and Clint would find out and tease him until Armageddon and Tony would be forced to turn into a super villain and kill him to get the archer to shut up. It would be a horrible day for everyone.  
  
Jarvis flushed the toilet and Tony walked over to the elevator, lifting a paw at the doors. They opened and he went inside. “The workshop, Sir?” asked Jarvis. Tony meowed and the carriage began to drop smoothly. The workshop was as he had left it and Tony easily hopped up onto the worktable he’d been using before. Dummy rolled over and put a bowl of water nearby, the metal arm reaching over to pet the cat. Tony didn’t cringe away this time and allowed him to carefully run his claw over the cat’s head. It really was very nice. Tony eventually waved away the bot and had Jarvis pull up the files to look for another project to work on. Perhaps a modification to Steve’s Captain America uniform? The genius was thinking maybe an emergency parachute and floatation device. The blond did have a distressing habit of jumping off of high things, almost as bad as Clint, and did not have a good record with planes. Something thin and well placed on his back, braced by his belt, could be of use to him. Tony began the tiresome task of typing out commands with his paws, a 3D rendering forming in the air.  
  
It was about three hours later that frustration was boiling in Tony’s veins. He stormed across the worktable, knocking things off with angry swipes of his paws. The idea was complete and the simulations said the parachute would work but without a prototype Tony had no way to test the device and he couldn’t build anything while he was a cat. He was less than useless like this. A screwdriver went flying off the worktable, landing on the floor with a clang. Butterfingers gingerly picked it up and rolled away to place it in the big red toolbox in the corner, in a drawer full of wrenches, the stupid bot.  
  
“Sir, perhaps we could try and have the bots craft a prototype?” suggested Jarvis tentatively. Tony glared up at the ceiling and the AI sighed. “It’s not ideal, I understand that. But at least it would be something.” Tony chittered, showing his fangs. There was a reason he named the bots Dummy, Butterfingers, and You. (Ok, he named You that in a fit of laziness but that was beside the point.) They were helper bots but they lacked the really fine control required for detailed work. (He really should change that. It had just never been a problem before. Even that time he’d broken his thumb hadn’t stopped him from being able to work.) But now he was a cat and couldn’t even lift his soldering iron. Tony despondently watched Dummy grapple with a long screwdriver, trying to pick it up by the shaft rather than the handle. “I’m sorry, Sir,” Jarvis said quietly. The cat’s ears drooped.  
  
After several minutes, Tony jumped from the worktable and wandered out of the workshop. He went around the corner, down some steps, to another glass paneled room. He meowed up at the door and it slid open. The smell of chemicals assaulted Tony’s sensitive nose. The cat snorted, rubbing at his nose with his paw, but walked in. He went around a wide table until he came to the man sitting hunched over a microscope. Tony didn’t call up to Bruce but instead found a spot clear enough on the table he could jump up on. The cat carefully picked his way across the table, Bruce muttering to himself and writing some notes down on a paper pad with one hand. Tony gently pushed some beakers and test tubes away until he had enough space on the corner of the table to lie down. He was quiet and Bruce didn’t even notice the cat was there. Being preoccupied in what they were doing and not paying attention to their surroundings was a failing among scientists. Tony laid his head down and closed his eyes, listening to the pen scratch across the paper. He just ... didn’t want to be alone right then.


	6. SIX

The soft clink of glass against glass and the whirling of a machine in the corner were interrupted by an announcement from Jarvis. “Sir, the others have arrived back to the Tower. Captain Rogers is currently looking for you in the workshop,” said the AI.  
  
Bruce blinked and lifted his head away from the microscope. He squinted around the lab and then reached up to grab his glasses off the top of his head. “What did you say, Jarvis?” he asked, stifling a yawn.  
  
“I was informing Sir that Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, and Miss Romanoff had returned to the Tower from searching the city for Loki,” replied the AI patiently.  
  
Something moved next to him and Bruce started. “Tony!” he gasped as the cat stretched with yawn, flashing sharp fangs and a pink tongue. “How long have you been there?” asked Bruce in confusion. Golden eyes blinked sleepily up at him.  
  
“Sir has been there for two hours and twenty three minutes, Doctor Banner.”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“A little before 8 pm.”  
  
Bruce gasped and stood, his chair rolling away behind him. “Crap! Steve asked me to feed Tony lunch and I completely forgot.”  
  
“Indeed, Doctor. Sir, Captain Rogers is becoming quite agitated. I believe he thinks you have been kidnapped or are lying in a dark corner injured. Shall I tell him that is not the case?” asked Jarvis, sounding amused. Tony waved a paw and jumped down from the table, ambling toward the doorway. “Very good, Sir.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Tony,” said Bruce, following the cat out of the lab and down the hallway. “I must have completely spaced and forgotten what time it was.” Tony twitched his tail at the other man, settling on the private elevator floor for the short trip up. He meowed up at his science bro, squinting his eyes and purring. “If that forgiveness?” asked Bruce. “It’s hard to tell when you’re furry like this.” Tony reached over and patted his shoe with a paw. “I’m going to just take that as forgiveness then.”  
  
The private elevator opened and they walked out. Clint was lying across an armchair, legs hanging off one arm and head resting on the other. He titled his head back a little more as the elevator opened, looking at them upside down. “Cap, here he is! And wonders of wonders, he’s in one piece! Just like Jarvis told you,” the archer called sarcastically. Tony looked up at him in confusion, ears swiveling around.  
  
Hurried footsteps came around the sofa and Steve appeared, eyes turned a stormy grey. “There you are, Tony!” he said, slightly snappish as if he were mad. The cowl of the Captain America suit was pushed off his head, his hair sticking up all over the place. His gloves were gone and there was a worrying burn mark on his right leg.  
  
“Did I not just say that?” muttered Clint in annoyance.  
  
“Where were you? Are you ok? Why weren’t you up here when we came back?” demanded Steve, storming toward the cat with a scowl. Tony could feel his heavy footsteps through the floor, golden eyes widening. The blond bent down, looking ready to snatch Tony up from the floor. The cat cringed away in fright, ears flattening against his head, but didn’t dart away. He refused to run away from the other man again. Tony may be small and furry but he was still himself.  
  
“Captain Rogers!” boomed Jarvis, every speaker in the room turned up to eleven. Everything rattled. A stack of DVD’s fell to the floor with a clatter and a picture frame across the room slipped from the wall, crashing to the floor. Bruce flinched, skin flushing green, and Clint scrambled up from the chair. They had never heard Jarvis ‘yell’ before. Steve froze. “I insist you calm down this instant. Your behavior is unacceptable,” Jarvis said sternly.  
  
Steve took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. Tony peeked up at him. Steve was frozen in mid-motion, reaching for the cat. His hands were posed above Tony, fingers reaching out like claws. One by one, each muscle in Steve’s body relaxed, fingers curling into a softer position. Tony’s tail lashed from side to side but he remained where he was. Steve released his breath, color seeping back into his pale face. He opened his eyes and looked down at Tony with a calmer demeanor, less like a storm over the sea and more like summer afternoon. “I’m sorry,” he said in a normal tone. He unfroze and reached down slowly, scooping Tony up gently. “I was upset. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Steve cradled Tony against his chest, a hand stroking down the cat’s side. Tony cast a confused look at Clint even as he began to purr, giving in to the urge to knead biscuits against Steve’s bicep.  
  
“What happened?” asked Bruce, the green flush leaving his skin. “Did you find Loki?” He gave Steve a nervous look but the blond seemed to be fine now.  
  
“Oh, we found Loki alright,” grumbled Clint. “He was in Chinatown, living it up at a parade. We tried to get him but he turned the paper dragon into a real dragon and everyone was freaking out as it went galloping down the street. At least until it blundered into the fireworks and set itself on fire. Then Loki laughed at us, turned Natasha’s suit bright pink, and then fucked off to who knows where, the little shit. We lost him after that.” Bruce chuckled behind his teeth, fighting not to smile. “Natasha is pissed. Don’t let her see you laughing, Doc,” Clint said, his lips quirking up despite his warning.  
  
Bruce coughed into his fist. “Of course not,” he said solemnly.  
  
“Sorry, Tony. Guess you’ll have to be a kitty a little while longer,” Clint said. Tony meowed at him, shrugging. Steve held the cat against his chest, staring down at the floor with a pensive look on his face. “What did you two do all day?” the archer asked.  
  
“I did tests on the samples I took from Tony,” replied Bruce, slipping his glasses off and rubbing at his dry eyes.  
  
“Find out anything interesting?”  
  
“He’s a common domestic shorthair cat,” Bruce replied blandly. “There’s nothing to differentiate between Tony and a normal cat that I could find.”  
  
“So, nothing new to report,” Clint said with a sigh. “I’m gonna shower. Jarvis, you wanna order in dinner? I don’t think any of us feel like cooking tonight.”  
  
“I can, Agent Barton. Chinese or Italian?”  
  
Clint looked back with a cocked eyebrow. “We had Chinese last week,” Bruce said unenthusiastically.   
  
Clint looked at Steve but he was ignoring them, still staring at the floor. “Italian then. Got that, Jarvis?”  
  
“Calling Angelo’s now,” Jarvis announced. Clint glanced at a subdued Steve one last time and then headed off to the private elevator that would take him up to his floor.  
  
Bruce studied Steve as the private elevator whisked Clint away. Tony gave his science bro a worried look. Steve was cradling him carefully against his chest, petting him softly, and while that was very nice what with how warm the super solider was, Tony could also feel the other man trembling a little. “You ok there, Steve?” asked Bruce.  
  
Steve was silent for a moment and then Tony titled his head back and gave his chin a lick with his rough sandpaper tongue. “Wha?” Steve muttered, coming alive. His blue eyes focused away from the floor, looking down at the cat. “Do you need something Tony?”  
  
“Are you alright?” Bruce asked again.  
  
Steve looked up at him in surprise and then blinked around the room in confusion. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment. “I’m fine.” Bruce looked unconvinced. Steve shook his head, looking down at Tony. He readjusted his hold on the cat so Tony wasn’t cradled quite so closely against him. “I am. I’m just disappointed that we couldn’t catch Loki so he could change Tony back and then we wreaked Chinatown during the fight. Fury is going to be all over us about that, I just know it. The people on the street were wailing about their paper dragon being destroyed. Even after it tried to eat them all.” Steve voice was getting softer and softer as he spoke, his hold on Tony tightening again. “It’s just … It’s just, I wasn’t able to get Tony turned back into a human like I promised and we haven’t heard back from Thor yet and that bastard Loki said that Tony would be a cat for the rest of his life until he died of old age in a few years, like a real cat would.” By the time Steve stopped talking he was muttering into Tony’s shoulder, face pressed into the cat’s fur. Tony shot Bruce a panicked look, not because Steve was squishing him, although the blond kind of was, but because Steve was shaking like a leaf on a windy day.  
  
“That’s bullshit,” snapped Bruce. Steve lifted his head, startled at hearing Bruce curse. Tony gave his science bro a warning look because it was a sin to be mean to an upset Steve Rogers. Tony was pretty sure it was in the Bible somewhere, among that long list of ‘thou shall not’s. “You know it’s bullshit,” Bruce continued. “Don’t believe what Loki says. He’s an asshole and we can’t trust him anyway. If you couldn’t get Loki today, then you’ll go out tomorrow and look for him again. And Thor will be back soon and you know he’ll bring help. I’m not gonna give up and Tony has faith that we’ll get him turned back, so don’t go around kicking yourself just because we have a little set back. That’s bullshit. We’ll do the best we can until Tony gets turned back into a human and I don’t want to hear any more of this crap about us failing. It’s not gonna happen.” Bruce’s eyes flashed green in warning. “Got it?”  
  
Steve nodded because Bruce in full on impassioned rant mode was a thing to behold. “I got it,” said Steve. He didn’t sniffle and he hadn’t been crying but Tony could feel the trembling lessen. He lifted his head and licked Steve’s chin again. Steve looked down at the cat in surprise and then smiled. “Don’t worry, Tony. We’ll get you turned back in no time.” Tony meowed at him, patting his hand with a paw.  
  
The private elevator opened and Clint and Natasha came out. Clint paused, freshly showered and wearing sweats. “Everything alright here?” he asked dubiously.  
  
Natasha, wearing yoga pants and a tank top, not a speck of pink to be seen, continued on toward the kitchen. “Steve is just having a freak out,” she said. “He’s over it. Jarvis, when is the food going to be here and did you remember to order extra breadsticks?” She gave Tony a quick scratch on the head as she walked past.  
  
“The food should be arriving in another 10 minutes, Miss Romanoff, and of course I ordered extra breadsticks,” replied Jarvis, sounding vaguely insulted. “Nobody wants a repeat of what happened last time there was not enough breadsticks.” Tony had had to replace half the kitchen and Thor had sulked for days because Steve had yelled at him.  
  
“Amen to that,” muttered Clint, flopping down on the sofa. “Pull up the news, Jarvis. Let’s see if our little adventure in Chinatown made the 9 o’clock news.”  
  
Bruce snorted, sitting in one of the armchairs. “Paper dragon coming to life during a crowded parade? Of course it’s on the news,” he said. Natasha came back into the living room with a cup of yogurt, stepping over Bruce’s feet to reach the sofa. Jarvis scanned the channels until he found a news station playing a shaky smart phone recording of the paper dragon going up in flames.  
  
“I’m going to take a quick shower and change,” Steve announced. He gently set Tony on a sofa cushion. Tony allowed himself to be put down, even though Steve had been very warm and comfy, butting his head against the side of Steve’s hand as he pulled away. Steve smiled. “Start without me if the food gets here before I’m back,” he ordered, walking toward the private elevator.  
  
“No problem,” called Clint, giving him a jaunty salute. Natasha poked him in the arm in punishment for being rude.  
  
Tony watched Steve disappear into the elevator, still worried about the blond’s little episode. Then he noticed Natasha and her yogurt. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that breakfast had been a long time ago and lunch had been not at all. He knew that Steve would be back soon and would feed him then but the yogurt was right there now. He could smell its creamy dairy scent. Tony bounced across the sofa and tried to stick his nose into the yogurt cup. Natasha jerked it away, holding it up out of his reach. “I have killed a man for less, Stark,” the redhead said menacingly. Tony was unperturbed, stretching one paw up and giving a pitiful meow. Natasha narrowed her eyes down at the cat and then looked at the ingredient list on the side of the yogurt cup. “Jarvis, can I give him some of this without making him sick?” she asked.  
  
“I cannot find any reason why not, Miss Romanoff,” replied Jarvis. “It would be unwise to give Sir too much of the yogurt but a little should be fine.”  
  
Tony gave a triumphant meow and stretched up even further to get at the yogurt cup. Natasha jiggled her leg and he dropped down. “Hold on. You’re not using my spoon,” she said. She stuck her finger into the cup and then presented Tony was a glob. The cat delicately licked it up, careful of his fangs. Tony wanted some yogurt but that didn’t mean he was suicidal. Clint stared and Natasha glanced at him. “What?” she demanded with a glare, sticking her finger back into the cup and giving Tony some more yogurt.  
  
“You’re sharing your food,” said Clint in awe. “You never share your food.”  
  
“It’s just yogurt, Clint,” replied Natasha as if it were no big deal. She went back to the cup and offered Tony a third glob. Clint continued to watch as if this was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. He wasn’t even paying any attention to where Captain America had just flung his shield into Loki’s head on the TV screen. “Ok, that’s enough,” Natasha announced, wiping her finger on her pants. “I don’t want you to get sick. Steve will pout for hours at us.” Tony sat back, licking at his whiskers. He lifted a paw and began to bath himself. The impulse really was annoying. He wasn’t even dirty.  
  
The food came and they crowded around the kitchen island with the Styrofoam boxes and paper bags. There was a dining table, a rather nice table too, but they all preferred to sit on the stools at the kitchen island to eat for some reason. Tony jumped up on a stool and was saved from sliding off by Clint’s quick grab. Tony meowed a thank you and the archer placed him properly on the stool. Bruce passed out plates and Natasha passed out sodas and they plated up the food. There was a game of ‘can Tony eat this’ and Jarvis’ replies for a couple of minutes before Steve arrived in the kitchen.  
  
Bruce jerked his hand back and Tony gobbled down the last of the veal that had been set in front of him. Steve narrowed his eyes as everyone was looking innocently back at him. “Were you guys feeding Tony Italian food?”  
  
“Of course not!” exclaimed Clint. “We wouldn’t do that.”  
  
“Uh huh,” said Steve skeptically. He stepped up to the island and pointed at Tony, his finger an inch from the cat’s nose. Tony’s eyes crossed. “You’ve got white sauce on your nose, Tony.” Oops. Busted. Tony licked his nose and began to wash his whiskers again while everyone laughed. Steve chuckled and went to the fridge to pull out a tub of cat food. He glanced at the label. “How about some salmon?” he asked, getting a plate and spooning some out. Tony meowed, turning on his seat to watch Steve heat up his food in the microwave.  
  
Steve set the plate in front of Tony, on the kitchen island like everyone else. He was learning. Tony sniffed it to make sure it was edible. Yep, fish and veggies. He began to eat, listening to the others chatting together about what movie to watch this evening. Tony got a few more bites of chicken from the Italian food but they all agreed that the sausage would be too spicy for him while he was a cat, much to Tony’s disappointment. He leapt across to the sink and Jarvis turned on the faucet so he could get a drink. The others cleaned up their mess and put the leftovers into the fridge.  
  
“We are not watching The Princess Bride again,” Natasha said sternly as they moved out into the living room. “Thor isn’t even here. Let’s watch something else.”  
  
“How about Star Wars?” asked Clint, flopping down on the loveseat.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Star Trek?”  
  
“Are you trying to make me kill you?” demanded Natasha. Clint just grinned back at her, unafraid of her threat.  
  
“Let’s watch an animation,” Steve said. He and Natasha settled on the sofa while Bruce took an armchair.  
  
“Disney movie?” suggested Bruce, taking a sip of his beer.  
  
“Robin Hood!” crowed Clint, throwing up his arms. He had to scramble to save his popcorn bowl from falling out of his lap to the floor.  
  
“I’m not watching a bunch of talking animals. It’s creepy,” Natasha snapped. “I’ll concede to watching Brave.” Tony jumped onto the middle sofa cushion between them, dropping over onto his side and stretching out so his back paws pushed against Natasha’s leg and his front paws touched Steve’s thigh. Natasha’s hand darted out and tickled his belly. Tony curled up like a pill bug with a squeak, his retaliatory swipe missing Natasha by a mile.  
  
“Is Brave ok with everyone?” asked Steve. They all agreed, shifting around to get comfortable. “Jarvis, if you could?”  
  
“Of course, Captain.” The lights dimmed and the TV screen lit up with the Disney fairytale castle. Tony rolled around on his cushion until he was comfortable, sprawled out on his side and lazily staring at the TV screen. The cat’s golden eyes glittered in the light and Tony relaxed, feeling drowsy. Somewhere around Merida following a will-o-wisp through the woods, Tony felt a hand settle on his side and gently stroke down along his ribs. He glanced up, finding Steve absently petting him, the blond’s attention still mostly on the movie. The cat doubted Steve even knew he was doing it. Tony was warm and full and safe and before Merida’s mother could be turned into a bear, he slipped into sleep, purring quietly.


	7. SEVEN

Tony woke the next morning alone on the sofa but someone had wrapped a blanket around him like a cocoon. He yawned and wiggled himself out of the blanket, jumping down and going over to the pet water fountain for a drink. It was early, the sky outside was just turning grey. It was eerily quiet too. (It’s never this damn silent.) Unnerved, Tony licked the water from his nose and flicked a paw. “The time is 6:08am, Sir,” Jarvis dutifully replied. Just the AI’s voice was enough to calm the cat. “All of the other Avengers are asleep in their beds, although Miss Romanoff shows signs of waking soon.”  
  
Tony wandered over to the cat tree, climbing up onto a platform half way up. The others would soon get up for another day of Loki hunting. It was a bit disappointing that he got away yesterday but Tony could be patient. (I really can! No matter what Rhodey or Pepper say.) Tony licked a paw, thinking about his… girlfriend, he guessed. Was girlfriend the proper term for what was going on between Tony and Pepper? Would lover work better? Although they hadn’t so much as slept in the same bed in weeks, even before Tony had been turned into an animal. They had managed a few lunch dates and some dinner get-togethers. There had been a touch of hanky-panky in there too but not a lot of couple time.  
  
They hadn’t had a lot of talks either. Tony shuddered. (I can’t believe I miss talking about my feelings. Feelings gave me hives.) But they used to have quiet talks while lying in bed or snuggling on the sofa. Tony had even told her about his nightmares. He had told her about being trapped in the cave again and about being swallowed by the portal, darkness closing in all around him. Pepper had told him how she missed her old cat and how she enjoyed a good foot rub. Tony had become an expert foot rubber. (Those heels Pepper wore had to be killing her.) Tony had even listened when Pepper had told him that under no circumstances was he to buy her a kitten. He looked down at himself. This did not count.  
  
Pepper was a big supporter of talking and she had tricked Tony into talking with affection, snuggling, and sexy times. But now there was no affection, snuggling, sexy times, or talking. Tony pensively licked his paw. Was she overworked? Did she need an assistant? Running Stark Industries took up a lot of time. Pepper had been flying between the west coast and the east coast ever since the Tower had gone up. Maybe she needed help? But, Pepper loved being CEO. She was good at it and Stark Industries had never looked better. Pepper liked the office and excelled at her duties, just as she had when she had been a PA and had run Tony instead. Tony set his paw down, curling his tail tightly around his legs. He slowly folded himself down, like he was deflating with a slow leak, until he was a small furry ball. He tucked his nose between his paws. Pepper may love being CEO and running Stark Industries but maybe … maybe she had grown tired of running Tony.  
  
“Sir? Are you alright?” asked Jarvis. Tony flicked his tail before curling up again. “If you say so, Sir,” Jarvis said doubtfully. Tony watched the sun rise from between his paws.  
  
The one good thing about being a cat was that Tony’s hearing was spectacular. He swiveled an ear in the direction of the faint footsteps and gentle breathing. “You ok, Tony-kitty?” asked Clint. Tony rolled his eyes. The nickname was apparently a permanent thing with the archer. Clint rubbed behind the cat’s ears but Tony resolutely did not purr. Clint frowned. “Don’t you feel well?” he asked, concerned. Tony shrugged, which was really odd to see on a cat. Clint rubbed down along Tony’s neck and wiggled his fingers under his chin. “Come on, purr. I know you want to. Soft kitty, warm kitty, purr purr purr.” Tony snorted, trying to twitch away. Clint was such an internet fiend. Clever fingers scratched along the side of his cheek and under his chin. The tiny motor that seemed to live in Tony’s chest now started up, rumbling loudly. (Fuck, I can’t even sulk in peace.)  
  
Natasha came out of the private elevator, making a b-line for the kitchen. “Coffee, Jarvis,” she ordered. Clint scooped Tony gently up, cradling the cat wrong way up in his arms. Tony blinked as the ceiling went by, his legs sticking up as Clint held him like a baby. “You are going to get bit holding him like that,” Natasha commented as they walked into the kitchen. Tony was wiggling, making sure to use his claws and trying to get himself right way up. Being put on his back with his belly visible was trigging some sort of hindbrain panic mode. (Not good. Not good. Not good!)  
  
“Ow! Tony, stop it!” snapped Clint as Tony clawed his forearm, juggling the cat.  
  
“Clint, hold him right or put him down,” ordered Natasha. The archer dropped Tony on the island and the cat raced across and jumped the gap to the kitchen counter beside the sink. He knocked into the flour container, which thankfully did not fall over. Natasha rolled her eyes, filling her coffee cup to the brim. “I thought you worked with animals in the circus,” she teased.   
  
Clint scowled, getting the first aid kit out of the cabinet to take care of the scratches lightly bleeding on his arm. (They had first aid kits in every room of the Tower. It was a depressing necessity.) “Tigers and lions are a little different from a common house cat,” he muttered sullenly.  
  
Tony hopped across the sink and tried to stick his nose into Natasha’s coffee cup, the smell driving him nuts. She pushed him away. “No, Tony. I know coffee cannot be good for you.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Sir,” said Jarvis, “but Miss Romanoff is correct. Coffee, or any caffeinated beverage, would be quite harmfully to you as a cat.” Tony meowed, pawing the air in the direction of Natasha’s coffee cup. (No! What is this injustice? Bring back my ambrosia!) Clint smirked at the cat and Tony’s glared at him. (Careful there, Clint, or I’ll pee in your quiver.)  
  
Steve ambled into the kitchen, still wearing his cotton sleep pants and t-shirt. “Morning,” he muttered to everyone, going to the fridge to pull out the orange juice. “What happened to you?” Steve asked, catching sight of Clint’s arms.  
  
“Tony clawed me,” Clint answered sullenly.  
  
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing to him?”  
  
“Why do you think I was doing something to him?!”  
  
“Because you two live to antagonize each other and Tony is small and fuzzy at the moment. What did you do?”  
  
“He was holding Tony upside down,” replied Natasha when Clint didn’t answer. The archer had taken on the appearance of a constipated gnome. (That’s right!) Tony thought, strutting along the counter. (I am cute and furry and awesome and you are a big old stinky face!)  
  
“Jarvis, do we have any squirt bottles?” demanded Clint, glaring at the cat. Tony stuck his tongue out at him.  
  
“I’m sorry, Agent Barton. It appears that we do not,” replied Jarvis, amusement in his voice.  
  
“Pity,” Clint muttered.  
  
“Let’s get some breakfast and then get started on our search,” said Steve, shutting down the brewing fight. “I want to head back to Chinatown and make a quick sweep to make sure Loki is really gone and then we’ll move on to the Financial District.” He set his orange juice down and grabbed a pan from the hanging rack.   
  
Natasha got Clint a cup of coffee and started putting bread into the toaster while Steve scrambled some eggs. Clint set the butter on the island to soften and took down another pan to brown some sausage in. “Strawberry jam or grape?” Natasha asked, rooting through the fridge. Steve and Clint both gave different answers, cracking amused smiles, and Natasha put both on the island with a shrug. Steve scooped some eggs onto three plates and set his pan aside, pulling the tub of cat food out and heating it in the microwave. Tony hopped back over to his stool at the island and Steve set his plate of food in front of him. They ate, the others talking over the path they would take through Chinatown. There were a lot of dark alleyways and Steve wanted to be careful they didn’t miss any. Clint slipped Tony a few crumbles of sausage behind Steve’s back while Natasha shared her eggs.  
  
They changed and came back in their uniforms while Tony waited for them on the cat tree, cleaning his whiskers. Clint playfully aimed an arrow at the cat, barely pulling back on the bow string. Tony hissed at him, crouching into an attack position, tail flicking. Playing along, as it were. “I do not find that amusing, Agent,” Jarvis said pointedly.   
  
Clint lowered his bow, wincing as Steve frowned at him in disapproval. “Sorry,” the archer muttered. He put the arrow back in his quiver and walked up to the cat tree. Clint reached for Tony and the cat sat up, bumping into his hand and purring. “You know I was just playing, right?” asked Clint. Tony rested a paw on his wrist, biting lightly at his thumb, before darting into the carpeted house. He came out with the Captain America toy shield in his mouth. He bit into it, making the plush squeak. Clint laughed, roughly rubbing between Tony’s ears.  
  
Natasha came over to stroke along Tony’s back, frowning at the amount of fur that flew into the air. “I think you need to be groomed, Tony. At least some combing to cut down on the shedding. We don’t want you to get hairballs.”  
  
Steve came over, leaning close with a worried look. “Hairballs? He’s not sick, is he? Tony, do you feel alright?” The blond reached out and touched Tony’s head, as if looking for a fever. Tony shook his head, butting against Steve’s palm. The cat felt fine. (Although the idea of hacking up a hairball is totally yucky. I do not want to do that!)  
  
“There are grooming materials included with the supplies delivery from the day before yesterday,” said Jarvis. “Including several combs.”  
  
Steve nodded. “We’ll give Tony a brushing when we get back tonight.” Tony made a face, expressing his opinion about that by sticking his tongue out. Steve rolled his eyes, scratching under the cat’s chin. “You’ll be fine. Don’t complain. Jarvis, is Bruce still asleep?”  
  
“He is, Captain.”  
  
“Can you please set up a reminder message for him to feed Tony lunch today and also make sure Bruce eats something? It’s not healthy to miss meals like that.”  
  
“Alert set for noon, Captain. Will that be all?”  
  
“Yes. Thank you.” Steve pulled on his gloves and pulled his cowl over his head, reading down for his shield. “We should get going,” he said to the others. Natasha gave her belt one last check while Clint folded his bow up for easier transport.  
  
“See ya later, Tony-kitty,” called Clint with a wave as he entered the elevator that would lead to the rest of the Tower and down into the garage.  
  
“Stay out of trouble,” Steve warned Tony. The cat blinked wide golden eyes up at the blond, looking so sweetly angelic in a way only the most evil cats in the world can affect. “Behave,” Steve said sternly, not buying that for a moment. “We’ll be back tonight. Goodbye.” They disappeared into the elevator and Tony was left alone on the cat tree. He carried the shield plush back into the carpeted house and then jumped down for a drink from the water fountain. The cat used the bathroom, thanking his lucky stars that he didn’t fall in, and trotted over to the private elevator.  
  
“To the workshop, Sir?” asked Jarvis. Tony nodded and rode the private elevator down. Dummy and You greeted him at the door and the cat paused in surprise, staring with wide eyes around the workshop. It had been cleaned up, the cars he liked to tinker with moved to the far end of the large room and the worktables cleared of junk. There was a large space in the center of the room that was empty. Tony gave a confused meow. (Where did all my crap go!?) “Dummy felt sad that he and you could not play safely in the workshop. So, I instructed them to clean out an area in which it would be safe for play. I assure you, Sir, I supervised the cleaning. All of your projects and tools have been stored carefully.”  
  
Dummy beeped, spinning his claw and looking almost shy. (You mean you did all this just so you could swing around a piece of string with me? Oh, you stupid, wonderful bucket of bolts.) Tony rubbed at his nose, eyes suspiciously bright. He patted at the bot’s claw with a paw, head butting the cold metal. (You are such a dummy, Dummy.) The bot gave an excited squeal and rolled off to his charging station. Tony watched as Dummy rolled back to him dangling a red electrical cord to which some puffy fibers were tied to at one end. “Dummy made the toy himself, Sir,” explained Jarvis softly. “He is very proud of it.”  
  
Dummy jerked the toy, making the fiber bounce in the air. Tony crouched down, wiggling his butt as he prepared to jump. (It is so on, buddy!) The cat sprang after the toy and Dummy raced off across the workshop, hooting happily. Tony chased and jumped after the toy, his thoughts filled with ‘hunt, prey, kill’. At one point he managed to rip the cord out of Dummy’s grasp and went dashing around the workshop with the bot rolling after him. They did have one point where Tony wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and thumped into a metal cabinet.  
  
“Are you alright, Sir?” asked Jarvis while Dummy gave a worried toot. Tony shook his head and then shifted around to use his back leg to scratch at an ear. His ears often itched after he had jumped from a high place or been turned upside down. Tony knew it had something to do with a cat’s ability to always land on their feet and the feline inner ear but for him it was just annoying. (I’m good. Let’s keep playing. I’m having fun.) Tony batted at the fluffy end of the toy lying still on the floor, meowing pointedly. “Very good, Sir. You may continue, Dummy.” The bot was zooming across the room almost as fast as Tony could blink.  
  
Tony didn’t know how much time he had spent chasing after the toy but eventually he plopped down on the floor, exhausted. Dummy jerked the toy, whipping it to the side, but while the spirit was willing, the furry body was pooped. Tony rolled over onto his side, breathing heavily. (I can’t, buddy. I’m all played out.) Dummy dropped the toy and wheeled over to stroke his claw down Tony’s side. “I believe that is enough play for now, Dummy,” said Jarvis. “Sir appears to be tired.” You came over and carefully scratched between Tony’s ears. (Yeah, that’s nice. More of that.) Tony thought sleepily.  
  
“Sir?” asked Jarvis sometime later. Tony flicked his tail to show he was listening. “I do know that a cat sleeping on the floor is perfectly normal behavior but I have a protocol in which you falling sleep on the floor is labeled a ‘Bad Thing’. I implore you to at least move to the sofa.” Tony groaned but levered himself to his feet. Instead of going over to the sofa, he went to the tiny kitchenette and used a crate to jump up on the counter. The cat stepped into the sink and Jarvis turned on the faucet so he could take a long drink. Then he jumped down and wandered over to the sofa, pawing at the ratty afghan he kept there until he had a nice nest he could curl up in. Jarvis helpfully lowered the lights and Tony went back to his nap.


	8. EIGHT

An incessant beeping yanked Tony from sleep. (Jarvis, shut it off.) All that came out was an annoyed meow. Tony startled himself, jerking awake, but quickly remembering what had happened. (Right. Reindeer Games. Magic Asshole. Getting way in touch with my animal side. Shit…) Tony was slightly ashamed of himself when he hissed at Butterfingers as the bot reached for him, grumpy in the extreme. (Off, Jarvis! Christ…) The beeping stopped.

“I am sorry, Sir,” said Jarvis. “But Captain Rogers did ask me to set up an alarm for lunch. Doctor Banner has also been awoken.” And the AI did sound deeply sorry about waking the good doctor. He sounded less sorry for waking his creator. (Oh god.) Tony moaned to himself. (If I do get a hairball, I’m upchucking it in Steve’s overly patriotic bed.) Tony stood, stretching in all four directions because cats were creatures vaguely held together by fur and cuteness. Tony didn’t think stretching had ever felt this good in his life. Humans got the short end of that stick.

Tony jumped down from the sofa and went to the workshop door, stopping for a moment to affectionately rub against Dummy chassis. (Thanks for the play, buddy. Also, mine.) He scent marked the bot with both cheeks before taking the elevator up to the common level. He used the bathroom (God, this is still so embarrassing.) and took a drink from the pet water fountain. His stomach rumbled. Breakfast had been very, very early this morning and he’d burned a lot of energy playing with Dummy. Tony flicked a paw. “Doctor Banner is taking a shower and will be down to feed you soon,” replied Jarvis.

Tony sighed and jumped up on the cat tree. He was hungry now. Waiting for people to feed him sucked. Thank, well, not-Thor that he had Jarvis to open doors and things or else he was sure he’d go nuts. Tony climbed higher, sinking his claws into the rough rope covering the poles. He ended up in a hollow round tube from which a fake mouse was hanging from a string inside. The cat batted it aside and looked over the edge. (Wow, I’m high. I can see why Clint sits on top of the shelves all the time.) The hanging mouse hit him in the back of the head and Tony batted it away again. It hit him in the ear this time. He turned and trapped it against the side of the tube with a paw. (That, is annoying. Somebody get me a pair of scissors. This little mousie is about to lose his tail.)

“Tony?” called Bruce. His dark eyes peeked over the edge of the tube, looking confused and amused. “What are you doing?” Tony narrowed his eyes. (What does it look like I’m doing? I’m plotting toy mouse death here.) He chittered loudly at the other man and Bruce chuckled. “Come on. I’m hungry and Steve will kill me if I forget to feed you again.” Tony meowed and shimmied down the cat tree after him. In the kitchen, Bruce got the tub of half used salmon food and heated it up in the microwave. Tony found Bruce feeding him to be deeply weird. Steve had been the only one doing it up until now. The cat hopped up on his stool and Bruce set the plate in front of him. Tony sniffed the food, just to check it was okay, even though he’d watched Bruce during the whole process, and began to chow down.

Bruce pulled sandwich fixings from the fridge and made himself lunch, sitting down across from Tony to eat. “Do you think we should surprise the others with dinner?” he asked, sharing a potato chip with the feline. Tony licked salt from his lips and nodded. Ordering in was great and all, but he knew they all liked the home cooked meals better. “Jarvis, what do we have?” Bruce asked.

“There are two pork roasts in the freezer that have been waiting for a special occasion,” suggested Jarvis. Tony shook his head, looking at Bruce.

Bruce frowned. “I don’t think we’ll have time to defrost them and cook them before the others get home. What else do we have?”

“There is a selection of various pork chops, beef steaks, and chicken parts in the freezer. If you set them out now, they should be ready for the grill by this evening.”

“That sounds good,” mused Bruce. “I know we have fresh potatoes and some corn. It should be easy to wrap them up in foil and roast them the same time we grill the meat. What do you think, Tony? Sound good?” Tony meowed enthusiastically. All they had to do was feed one bottomless pit (Steve), one semi-bottomless pit (Clint), two normal eaters (Bruce and Natasha), and one kitty cat. That sounded just fine. Bruce finished his sandwich and placed their used plates in the sink. Then he opened the freezer door.

Tony jumped off his stool and wiggled past Bruce’s legs, sitting on his toes and looking up at the packed freezer. Most of it was ice cream and frozen pizza snacks but there were also a lot of vacuumed packed leftover meats. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” muttered Bruce. Tony sniffed at a package but all he could smell was ice and cold. He patted a package of chicken with a paw, meowing pointedly. “Yes, we’ll grill some chicken,” Bruce said, pulling it out of the freezer and putting it on the counter. They cleared out the freezer and laid out the meat to defrost.

Bruce washed his hands and dried them. “What should we do next, Tony?” he asked, stroking down the cat’s back. Tony shrugged, following him out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Anything interesting on TV, Jarvis?” Bruce asked as he sat on the sofa. Tony jumped up and sat beside him, snuggling up next to his thigh. The TV turned on, a big tiger bounding through a dense jungle appearing on the screen. The Animal Planet logo spun in the bottom right corner. Bruce snickered while Tony gave an insulted meow. “Your AI is a troll, Tony.”

“I do try,” said Jarvis, sounding pleased. The channel turned to a news station reporting on three members of the Avengers scourging the city for something. What that something was, nobody knew but everyone could wildly speculate on. Bruce and Tony laughed as one news channel said that the Avengers were searching for the Hulk. Bruce snickered heartily at that. You didn’t lose a great big rage monster in the middle of a city. The reporters theorized that Tony Stark had been kidnapped again, based only on the fact that Iron Man was not seem joining his teammates in their searching. Tony sighed, laying a paw across his eyes. (Why am I suddenly the damsel in distress here? I built the first Iron Man suit in a cave, for fuck’s sake! Evildoers fear my name and all that shit.) There was a short clip of Captain America on his motorcycle cruising through the busy streets and then shaky cellphone footage of Hawkeye making his way across some rooftops. There was curiously no video or pictures of the Black Widow.

“Well, at least we know they’re looking hard,” muttered Bruce, rubbing between Tony’s ears. He smiled as the cat purred under his fingers. “Although I doubt Loki will be so easily found now that he knows we’re looking for him.” Tony gave him a dejected look and Bruce curled his fingers around to scratch at his chin. Tony purred louder. “Put on a movie or something, Jarvis. Something mindless and entertaining.” The TV switched over to the opening of The Aristocats and Bruce choked on his laughter. Tony just gave a long suffering sigh. (Why did I think letting Jarvis develop his own sense of humor was a good idea?)

After the Disney movie ended, Jarvis began Monty Python and the Holy Grail; always a favorite with them. Bruce chuckled, rubbing a hand up between Tony’s front legs and over his chest. The cat licked at his fingers, content with the petting. Before Tony knew it, it was early evening and the sun was creeping low on the horizon. Jarvis turned on the lamps. Tony gave a concerned meow at Bruce. “Hmmm?” Bruce muttered, looking lazily down at the cat. Tony meowed again worriedly. “Something the matter, Tony?”

Tony sighed, frustrated, and rolled to his feet. He chittered and flicked his ears. “I believe Sir is asking whether or not you have something you need to be doing?” translated Jarvis. “Some work in your lab you are neglecting to watch movies instead?”

“Nope,” replied Bruce. He dragged Tony into his lap and picked up a paw to examine the claws and pads. Tony allowed it because this was his science bro and Bruce was being extra careful and gentle with him. “I’ve done all the tests I could on the samples we have. The solution to your furry problem is not going to be coming from science, Tony. We’re either going to have to wait until Thor brings back help or Steve and the others get Loki.” Tony deflated in Bruce’s lap. (Fuck. I hate magic.) “Sorry, putty-cat,” Bruce teased. “Ready to help me put together dinner?”

Tony sighed but nodded and they got up off the sofa. Inside the kitchen, Bruce poked the defrosted meat with a testing finger. “Should be good,” he declared. “Jarvis, fire up the grill.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the AI replied. There was a clicking noise as the gas came on. The center panel of the large stove began to grow hot.

Bruce gathered spices and barbecue sauce, setting up a nice collection on the counter. “Chicken first,” he said with a wink. Tony licked his whiskers and nodded in agreement. He was ‘helping’ by sitting on the island and overseeing the cooking. The cat watched the chicken as Bruce washed some potatoes and cleaned the corn in the sink. (Don’t worry about the chicken, Bruce. I’ll watch it. I’ll watch it right down into my stomach.) Tony snickered at himself. Bruce wrapped the potatoes and corn in tinfoil and placed them in the oven. “Jarvis, can you tell us where the others are?”

“Radio communications and news reports put the other Avengers in Tribeca,” replied Jarvis. “I estimate another 30 minutes before Captain Rogers deems it too dark to continue the search and orders a return to the Tower.”

“No Loki then, I take it?” Bruce asked, giving Tony a sympathetic look.

“I’m afraid not, Doctor.”

Tony gave a careless shrug even as he looked away. It wasn’t good news but Tony wasn’t going to curl up in a ball of tears over it. It was no biggie. Bruce stroked along the cat’s back. “Sorry, Tony. Looks like you’ll have to wait a little longer.” Tony meowed at him and licked Bruce’s finger, and, well, a spot of barbeque sauce but that was not important. He sat on the island, curling his front paws over the edge, and meowed, flicking his tail at the grill. “Yes,” agreed Bruce, eyeing their selection of meat. “I do believe it is time to add the steaks.”

The chicken and steaks were cooked and removed from the grill about 10 minutes later, placed on plates and tented with tinfoil to rest. Bruce put a chicken leg without sauce on a separate plate, taking a moment to pull a piece off and give it to Tony. (Chicken!) Tony snapped up the chicken morsel. (Oh, hot! Hot hot hot!) The cat jumped to the counter and stuck his head under the faucet. Bruce laughed. “Careful. It’s still hot,” he teased. Tony glared at him, lapping cold water as fast as he could.

“Sir, the others have returned to the Tower,” announced Jarvis. (Awesome!) Tony jumped from the counter to trot out to the living room while Bruce added the burgers to the grill. The cat sat in front of the elevator and watched the digital floor indicator change from the garage level and move up the floors of the Tower one by one.

The doors opened and Tony darted forward. (Come eat! I want more chicken!) He made to jump up on his back feet to paw at Steve’s legs but stopped himself, wrinkling his nose in disgust. (Ew! What happened to you?) The lower half of the Captain America uniform was covered in foul smelling mud. Steve looked dejectedly down at Tony. “I’m sorry, Tony. We couldn’t find Loki,” he apologized, looking pale and unhappy. Tony felt so sorry for him. (There there, Steve. It’s okay.) The cat looked for a clean spot to pat his paw on but everything below Steve’s navel was muddy. Natasha had a few splatters of mud on her right arm and Clint had a few on his chest and a spot on his left cheek. Tony tried to meow sympathetically but wasn’t sure if the sentiment was getting across the language barrier.

Bruce came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “What happened to you?” he asked, eyebrows climbing. (Is there an echo in here?) Tony thought sourly.

“Some two-bit villain with a snazzy costume but no brains tried to rob the bank on 83rd Street,” Clint replied, scrubbing at his cheek. “It didn’t end well for anyone.”

“Are you cooking?” asked Natasha, pausing in her walk toward the private elevator to sniff the air.

Bruce nodded. “Cleaned out the freezer. Go wash up and change. The potatoes and corn should be ready by the time you get back. We’ve got a little bit of everything.”

“Ugh, food! I’m starving,” exclaimed Clint. “I think I have mud in my ear.” He and Natasha disappeared onto the elevator.

Tony looked up at Steve. (Why are you just standing there like a rooted tree for? Go shower. You, uh, kind of stink, Steve-o.) Bruce flipped the towel over his shoulder and regarded the blond man. “Still doing okay, Steve?”

Steve nodded, sighing harshly through his nose. “It’s just so frustrating,” he said. He shifted his shield off his shoulders, which was miraculously clean. “The longer Tony stays a cat, the more vulnerable we’ll be. People are starting to notice that Iron Man is absent. People stop us in the street and ask about him. I’m afraid some enterprising criminal is going to make a move while we’re a man down.” Tony’s ears folded down against his head, surprised. (People asked about me?)

“Like the guy who tried to rob the bank,” mused Bruce.

Steve nodded, pressing gloved fingers to his forehead like he had a headache. “Yeah, but I mean somebody competent. Not that moron.” Bruce smiled in amusement and Tony’s whiskers twitched. “There’s going to be problems if this continues for much longer,” Steve said, dropping his hand. He looked down at Tony again. “And I know Tony wants to be turned back into a human as quickly as possible.” The cat shrugged. (I’ve had worse happen to me. This is almost vacation like.)

“We just have to wait until Thor gets back,” Bruce said reasonably, “and continue to look for Loki. We’ll handle anything else as it happens. Now, go change. You’re getting mud all over the floors and the cleaner bots are getting impatient.” They all looked over to the corner where two shiny metal robots, sleek and softly whirling, waited to tackle the mess on the floor.

“Oh dear,” muttered Steve. “Sorry.” He tried to tiptoe to the private elevator but still left a trail of mud behind him. The two bots darted forward, one sucking up the mud and the other mopping behind it. Tony backed away, afraid one of them would catch his tail. (Wow, you guys look a whole lot creepier from this angle.) He pawed at Bruce’s pant leg. (Pick me up before I get eaten!) Bruce rolled his eyes but leaned down to pick the cat up. Tony stuck his tongue out at the bots over Bruce’s shoulder as they went back into the kitchen. Those suckers were getting an overhaul when Tony had his thumbs back.

Once the others came back, freshly scrubbed and wearing clean clothing, they demolished the food. Tony got more than his fair share of scraps after it was determined that nothing on offer would really cause him any harm. Clint fed him hunks of cheesy hamburger and Natasha shared some of her baked potato, making sure to give him pieces that had no butter. Steve even cut some bits off his steak to share with the cat. It was so much that when Steve heated up some beef cat food, Tony could only finish half of it before waddling out of the kitchen. (I feel like a furry beach ball.) He walked up the cat tree ramp to the carpeted house and lay down inside to digest, head resting on the Captain America shield plush toy.

Clint’s annoying face appeared at the door of the house. “You okay, Tony-kitty? You’re not going to be sick, are you?” There was a chicken leg smothered in barbeque sauce in his hand and Tony moaned at the sight of it.

“Leave him alone, Clint,” scolded Bruce, pulling the archer away. “I think we may have overfed him. Let him rest.” Steve looked in, face worried, but thankfully disappeared without disturbing the cat. Tony sighed and hoped he didn’t pop from so much food. The cleaning bots would have a fit. A movie turned on out in the living room, something with epic music, so probably a fantasy film. Tony dozed for a while before slipping out of the carpeted house to use the bathroom. He felt lethargic and heavy when he came out and he looked at the guys watching the movie with little interest. Natasha, oddly enough, was absent.

Tony walked down the hallway a little ways to not disturb the others and then flicked his tail. “Miss Romanoff is in the library, Sir,” replied Jarvis softly, also mindful of the men watching a movie nearby. Tony turned and walked past the private elevator.  He came to a rich wood door, which Jarvis helpfully unlock, and Tony pushed it open to poke his head inside the library. The library on the common floor was small, or, well, small as libraries that Tony Stark has go. The library in the 5th Avenue mansion was massive and even the Malibu house had a rather big library. This one was only one floor and had shelves that an average sized person could reach the top of. The fourth wall was windows overlooking the city but the other three walls had shelves. There were a bunch of comfy mismatched sofas and chairs scattered about for lazy reading.

Curled up in the corner of one of the sofas was Natasha, reading some cheap paperback thriller book with a colorful glossy cover. She was in her yoga pants and a t-shirt so faded Tony couldn’t tell what the graphic had once upon a time been. The cat crossed the room and jumped up onto the cushion next to her. Natasha glanced over before returning her attention to her book. Tony tidied his fur and cleaned his whiskers nonchalantly and, because he was currently a cat and thus had special cat powers, he slowly eeled his way into Natasha’s lap. He settled against her stomach and closed his eyes, sleepy and still overly full. The redhead casually dropped her hand and began to rub behind Tony’s ears. He purred under the attention, drifting off to sleep.


	9. NINE

His resting place moving caused Tony to wake up slightly. He was still tired from eating so much food and warm and he wanted to stay asleep. The cat grumbled, golden eyes opening into drowsy slits. “Hush, kотёнок,” muttered Natasha, the Russian word unfamiliar to Tony. Natasha curled her arms around Tony and stood, leaving the library. Tony rested his chin in the crook of her elbow, still half asleep. The living room was dark and empty as they walked through it. The boys must have finished their movie and moved onto their beds. Tony yawned and drifted back to sleep, warm in Natasha’s arms. He wasn’t awake for the ride up the private elevator.  
  
He woke again a couple of hours later, relaxed and comfortable. The cat opened his eyes and sleepily looked around, confused. This was not a room he was familiar with. The lacey duvet he was lying on was certainly not his own and this in no way resembled the cat tree. Tony slightly turned his head and caught sight of the person he was sleeping with. Natasha was curled on her side and Tony was nestled against her stomach. The cat looked around again, recognizing the redhead’s bedroom now. He looked back at the sleeping woman, considering, and then laid his head back down, snuggling closer.  
  
The sun was shining the next time Tony woke up. Natasha was not in the bed, although the cat can hear the shower going in the bathroom. It appeared as if the redhead had also tucked the blanket around Tony after getting up. He wondered if she was also the one who tucked him in on the sofa the night before last when the team was watching movies. The cat stands and walks to the end of the bed, meowing. The shades on the windows retracted, letting the morning sunlight through to warm the room. Tony settled in for a morning tongue bath.  
  
When Natasha emerged from the bathroom she was already wearing her Black Widow suit but without the belt or bracelets. She used the fingers of both hands to scratch under Tony’s chin, cradling his head in her palms. Tony should feel vulnerable. After all, his head was the size of a softball and he’d seen Natasha break harder things than his skull with those same fingers. Instead, he just purred loudly and closed his eyes in bliss. Natasha smelled like French soap and raspberry shampoo. It was a nice smell.  
  
The redhead picked him up and headed for the door. They rode the private elevator down to the common floor. Tony wiggled out of Natasha’s arms and trotted off to use the bathroom, meowing over his shoulder at her. The cat finished his routine and Jarvis flushed the toilet as usual. Tony then hurried across the living room to the kitchen. Everyone was already seated at the kitchen island, a cluster of cereal boxes and a jug of milk on the counter. Natasha shook some Lucky Charms into her bowl and sat down. Steve was reading something on a StarkPad while Clint was looking through a weapons magazine and Bruce was scribbling on a pad of paper, his Raisin Bran growing soggy.  
  
Tony jumped up on his stool, Steve putting out one hand to brace him before the cat could slide off. Tony licked his thumb in thanks and tucked into the plate of cat food already waiting for him. Steve went back to reading his tablet, swiping through pages like a pro. Clint poured some more Cocoa Puffs into his bowl and leaned over to show Natasha something in his magazine. “Jarvis, do we have a comb like this?” Steve asked suddenly, pointing to something on his screen.  
  
“Seeing as Sir is a short haired cat,” Jarvis replied, “I did not think such a comb was necessary.”  
  
Bruce looked up from his paper pad and leaned over to look. He shook his head. “Yeah, the teeth on that comb are way too long. It would be useless on Tony.” Bruce swiped the screen to the next page. “Probably the only things we’ll need is a fine toothed comb and a shedding blade.”  
  
“I have already purchased both,” announced the AI.  
  
“I don’t think we’ll have any problems grooming Tony,” Steve said, setting the tablet down. “It seems fairly simple.”  
  
Clint snorted. “Famous last words, Cap.” Tony licked his plate clean and then chittered loudly at the archer, insulted. “I’m on to you, Tony-kitty,” Clint said, pointing his spoon at the cat. “You are well on your way to world cat domination and don’t deny it.” Tony flicked his tail and jumped over to the sink for a drink.  
  
“Tony is not an evil mastermind, Clint,” Bruce scolded absently. “Stop trying to convince Fury he’s a villain.”  
  
“You haven’t seen the robots he built to clean the air ducts,” Clint muttered. “If those things aren’t a sign of impending evil-hood, I don’t know what is.”  
  
Tony jumped back over to the island and tried to stick his nose into Natasha’s bowl. She pushed his head away. “Absolutely not. No milk for cats and if you try to shove your head in my bowl or cup again I will purchase a squirt bottle,” she threatened. Tony sat in front of her and meowed pitifully. “I said no. It’s not worth having you throwing up on the floor when you get sick.” The cat pouted, lying down and resting his chin on Natasha’s wrist to sulk. Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll buy some shrimp while we’re out searching and if you’re good when we groom you this evening, you can have some after dinner.” Tony perked up, lifting his head and nodding with a meow. “It’s a deal then,” agreed Natasha.  
  
“You two sure are chummy,” observed Clint. “Did we bond or something?”  
  
“He is a small furry space heater. He makes an excellent bed companion,” the redhead said blandly.  
  
“Tony slept with you last night?” Steve asked, surprised.  
  
Natasha nodded. “I do not believe he felt well after eating so much at dinner. Tony sought me out in the library last night to relax since you hooligans were laughing like hyenas at some movie.”  
  
“Oh! I am not a hooligan!” protested Clint.  
  
“We need to avoid overfeeding Tony like we did,” Bruce announced, reaching over to scratch the cat between his ears. “So much human food is not good for him and he can’t eat as much as a cat as he could as a human. We’re lucky he didn’t get sick.” Tony wrapped his front paws around Bruce’s wrist as the man rubbed the cat’s head.  
  
“Do you feel alright now, Tony?” asked a concerned Steve. The blond man reached out and patted at Tony’s back leg. The cat thumped his arm with his tail and meowed, gnawing lightly at Bruce’s thumb. Steve smiled. “I’m glad. We should get going. I want to finish Soho and Greenwich Village today.” Clint drank the last of his chocolatey milk from his bowl and left to fetch his bow and quiver. Natasha did the same, setting her bowl in the sink before leaving.  
  
Bruce dragged Tony closer and picked up one of his front paws, ‘waving’ as the two Avengers left the kitchen. “Bye-bye,” singsogned Bruce.  
  
Steve snorted. “What are two going to do today?”  
  
“I figured we’d see how many cat themed movies Jarvis could find and amuse ourselves. Maybe make dinner again or something,” replied Bruce, releasing Tony when the cat began to wiggle. Tony rolled to his feet, shaking his head to stop the itching in his ears. He hated being turned upside down.  
  
“Sounds fun,” Steve said. He gave Tony an earnest look. “Hopefully we can catch Loki and have you turned back into a human tonight.” The cat meowed in agreement, stepping forward to head butt Steve’s hip. Steve ran a hand down Tony’s back, his smile turning soft. “We’ll be back around the usual time tonight,” he said. Bruce nodded and Steve tugged lightly on one of Tony’s ears before leaving the kitchen.  
  
Tony went over to sniff at Clint’s bowl and Bruce pulled it away quickly. “Don’t even think about it.” The cat pouted, everyone was being so mean, while Bruce put the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. “Come on,” Bruce said, lifting Tony off the counter and carrying him out to the sofa. “Jarvis, pull up a movie or something.” He grabbed the fleece throw from the back of the sofa and curled up in the corner, allowing Tony to climb over his legs and sprawl out in his lap. A jazzy piano and snare drum beat started up on the TV and Bruce frowned, watching a chocolate colored cat with jewel blue eyes duck out of a cat door. “That Darn Cat! Really, Jarvis?” Bruce asked, chuckling.  
  
“Is it not to your liking, Doctor?” asked the AI.  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Bruce replied, shaking his head with a smile. Tony shifted around and started to knead at his knee, complete with gentle cat claw acupuncture. Bruce curled his fingers around the cat’s head and scratched at his chin. Tony purred, contently making biscuits against Bruce leg. “What do you think we should make for dinner tonight?”  
  
Tony meowed, flicking an ear. “I can have the personal shoppers deliver whatever ingredients you wish, Doctor Banner,” Jarvis said.  
  
“I could make a big thing of biryani?” suggested Bruce. “Steve seemed to like it last time and I know Clint and Natasha don’t mind Indian food. Does that sound good?” Tony considered for a moment and then nodded with a meow. “You wouldn’t be able to have any,” Bruce warned. “It would be way too spicy for you.” Tony flattened his ears; he loved Bruce’s cooking, but nodded with a big sigh. He fully intended to be eating that shrimp Natasha had promised him anyway. “Jarvis, have the shoppers pick up the ingredients and make sure they get basmati rice, not brown rice or whatever is in front of their noses. Have them get some boneless chicken and then the stuff for naan bread. I don’t think we have any yeast on hand. Is the tandoor still in the storage room?”  
  
“It is, Doctor,” replied Jarvis. “I also see we are out of saffron and the chicken stock in the refrigerator should probably be thrown out. I shall order more. I will also get proper yogurt. I doubt Yoplait will serve your purposes.”  
  
Bruce snorted. “No, it really wouldn’t. Do we have charcoal?”  
  
“We do.”  
  
“Then we’re set. Thank you, Jarvis.” Tony meowed in agreement.  
  
“You’re welcome, Doctor, Sir. I have informed Miss Alice of your requests and she responds that the ingredients should arrive in about two hours.”  
  
“Excellent,” muttered Bruce. “That will give me enough time to marinate the chicken and heat up the tandoor.” He stroked his hand down Tony’s side and the cat stretched out on his thigh, his back legs pressing into Bruce’s stomach. Bruce’s hand paused, looking down at the feline sprawled across his lap with a sudden worried look. Tony meowed at him, thumping his tail against his arm. “I feel like I should apologize,” Bruce said. “I think we’re forgetting that you’re not really a cat, Tony. I mean, are you okay with the way we’re treating you?” Sleepy golden eyes blinked up at Bruce. “We’re petting you like a real cat and picking you up and carrying you around. That has to be insulting to you.” Tony closed his eyes and curled up into a tight ball in Bruce lap, purring like one of the well taken care of cars down in the garage. Bruce settled a hand on the curve of Tony’s back. “Okay. Obviously I’m wrong about you not liking the whole petting thing,” he chuckled. Tony thumbed him with his tail and curled back up, sighing. Bruce took the hint and went back to running his hand down the cat’s back.  
  
An hour and 47 minutes later Jarvis announced that the ingredients for dinner had arrived and were being sent up the elevator. Tony jumped from Bruce’s lap and hurried over to the cat tree. He scampered up to the carpeted house and hid while Bruce talked with Alice, their liaison and girl about town for New York, and accepted the cart full of foodstuffs. He sent her away and wheeled the cart into the kitchen. “She’s gone, Tony. Come on out.”  
  
Tony joined Bruce in the kitchen, jumping onto the island while he unpacked the cart. Bruce pulled the 5lbs bags of rice off the cart and laid them out on the counter. So, of course, Tony tiptoed over and laid down on them. Rice pillows cost a pretty penny. Bags of rice from the international grocery cost much less and were just as good. Tony wiggled so the rice settled around him and watched Bruce inspect his ingredients, the man muttering under his breath.  
  
Bruce eventually turned around and started laughing. Tony licked his nose and, with a superpower only cats seem to have, settled more heavily onto the bags of rice. “Ok,” Bruce said, chuckling. “You can have your bed for now. I have to mix the dough for the naan and let it rise. You look after the rice. Make sure nobody steals it.” Tony meowed at him, fluffing his whiskers in amusement. Watching Bruce mix the flour, yogurt, and dry yeast was calming. The dough was kneaded on a flour dusted wooden board and then placed in a bowl and covered with plastic wrap to rise. Bruce did this three times while Tony watched him sleepily from the rice bags. They ate a lot of bread, even without Thor there.  
  
“Ready for lunch, Tony?” asked Bruce as he washed his hands. Tony meowed and stood up to stretch. Bruce heated some cat food in the microwave and set it on the island while he scrounged up a leftover hamburger from last night and ate it with some chips. “I want to get the tandoor out and start heating it up. The coals need to be nice and hot for the naan,” Bruce said as he cleaned the dishes away. Large items and kitchen gadgets they didn’t use all that much were stored in a big pantry room behind the kitchen.  
  
Bruce ducked into the door almost hidden in the corner and rolled the fat clay tandoor out. He wheeled it out of the kitchen and pushed the door to the balcony open with his hip, going outside. They technically could use the tandoor inside without setting off the fire alarm with the smoke – the fire alarm being controlled by Jarvis, who could see that nothing was actually on fire – but it made the whole common floor smoky and unpleasant. Tony jumped from the island and trotted over to the balcony door, pushing against the glass.  
  
The balcony door lock clicked shut. Tony meowed loudly, glaring up at the nearest camera. “I am sorry, Sir,” said Jarvis, sounding regretful not at all. “It is not that I do not trust you out on the balcony. It is more I am concerned about the large birds of prey that often circle the building.” Tony’s butt hit the floor because there was no arguing with that. Clint often spoke about the red tailed hawks that nested on the top of the Tower. Tony had installed a webcam up there so the archer could watch the birds without disturbing them. Tony knew he was probably dinner sized to a hawk. He watched Bruce light the charcoal in the tandoor and put the lid on, allowing it to burn down.  
  
Bruce came back in and got started on cutting the chicken up and chopping the vegetables for the biryani. Tony returned to holding the rice bags down. Soon the whole floor smelled like warm spices and good food. Bruce shared a few bits of the chicken before he seasoned it and added it to the rice. Tony must have fallen asleep at some point watching Bruce putter around the kitchen because Jarvis’ voice woke him some time later. “Doctor? You wished for me to warn you when it seemed the other Avengers would be returning to the Tower. Captain Rogers has just given the order to end today’s search for Loki.”  
  
“Thank you, Jarvis,” Bruce replied. “I’m going to start on the naan. Tony, keep an eye on the pot. Jarvis, keep an eye on Tony.”  
  
“Always, Doctor.” Tony snorted as Bruce grabbed the bowls of risen dough from the counter and left for the tandoor oven out on the balcony. The cat watched Bruce expertly slap the rounds of dough to the side of the hot clay oven, using a long hook to pull the done bread out.  
  
The elevator opened and the others walked out. “Tony-kitty! I have a surprise for you!” shouted Clint, hoisting a Four Paws Club bag up in the air.  
  
“Clint, please don’t,” Steve pleaded with the air of a man without hope. Tony turned around and walked over curiously, meowing. Steve looked at him and grimaced. “I’m so sorry. We tried to talk him out of it.”  
  
“You don’t have to wear it,” stated Natasha. “Clint is just being an ass.”  
  
“No, no. It’s awesome! You’ll love it, Tony-kitty. I promise.” Clint knelt in front of an alarmed looking Tony and fished a large flat box from the bag. He opened it and Tony looked inside. It was a collar. It was a thin band of deep red leather stubbed with what Tony hoped was not real diamonds. A round gold tag with the name ‘Tony’ and the Tower phone number engraved on it dangled from the collar. Tony gave the grinning archer a bland look and turned to walk away.  
  
“When he pees in your bed, don’t come crying to me,” Natasha told a pouting Clint.  
  
“But the tag back is an arc reactor!” exclaimed Clint. Tony glanced back to find that he had flipped the tag around and the reverse side was indeed mirrored in a pattern to look like his arc reactor. His whiskers twitched in amusement despite himself.  
  
Bruce came in with a towering plate of naan bread, pulling everyone’s attention away from the collar. Natasha sniffed the air, a small smile blooming on her face. “You cooked again,” she observed happily.  
  
Bruce nodded. “I figured it was the least I could do since I can’t help with the search for Loki.” He gave Steve a questioning look. “Any luck?”  
  
Steve’s smile dropped off his face, shifting into a frown. “No. We found him in the Fashion District for a short time…”  
  
“Shopping! Actually shopping, for fuck’s sake!” exclaimed Clint, sounding deeply disturbed.  
  
“But we quickly lost him in the crowd,” finished Steve.  
  
“I think he wants to avoid another fight after the Chinatown parade,” Natasha said. “We should change and then eat.”  
  
The matter of Loki was dropped. Dinner was good, although Tony pouted that he didn’t get to have any. Well, he did get some naan but it tasted so strange to him that he only took a few bites before refusing any more morsels. It just wasn’t the same to his kitty palate. Natasha put a tiny glob of vanilla ice cream in a cup for him to make up for it. Then Steve picked him up off the kitchen island while he was cleaning his whiskers and carried him out into the living. One of the ottomans had been wheeled out of the library and covered with a towel. Tony’s ears drooped as he saw the combs and brushes laid out, waiting for him like instruments of ghastly torture.  
  
The cat squirmed in Steve’s arms and gave a deep throaty meow of protest. Steve juggled him and got him down on the ottoman. Tony gave him a betrayed glare. “We are grooming you, Tony. You are shedding all over the place. Don’t fuss and it’s be over soon. Clint, put down the camera or so help me I will use your hard head to break it,” Steve said. Clint hastily tossed the camera away, sticking his hands in the air to show they were empty.  
  
“You think we should clip Tony’s claws too?” asked Bruce. Tony made to lunge off the ottoman but Natasha caught him and pressed him down. He hissed at her but the redhead just gave him an unimpressed look. “Ok. I take it that is a ‘no’ on the claw clipping.”  
  
“I don’t think we should press our luck,” said Steve wryly. He picked up a fine toothed comb and ran it along the cat’s side. Natasha was still holding Tony lightly by the back of the neck as a precaution. Tony looked back and watched the comb sink into his fur, evaluating the sensation of the blunt tines lightly scratching his skin. “See? This isn’t so bad,” Steve said coaxingly. He paused to pull a clump of black fur off the comb and switched sides on the feline. Natasha let go of Tony, hand hovering above his neck just in case. Tony lashed his tail back and forth, watching Steve run the comb through his fur like a hawk tracking a juicy rabbit.  
  
Inch by inch, muscle by muscle, Tony relaxed. “There we go. Not so bad, is it? Just relax,” muttered Steve under his breath as he picked at a knot on the cat’s hip. Tony laid his head down and sighed. This was embarrassing and annoying, was what it was. He grunted as Steve pulled on a snarl in his fur. “Sorry,” muttered Steve apologetically. Tony sighed and rolled onto his side. His tail thumped hard against Steve’s knees to show his displeasure.  
  
“I think you can switch to the shedding blade now,” suggested Bruce. “You’ve gotten all you’re going to get with the comb.” Steve picked up the loop of metal and eyed its short stubby teeth dubiously before running it over Tony’s side. Black fur flew into the air. Natasha coughed and leaned away as Steve worked the blade over Tony’s side. A little white robot zoomed from a notch in the wall and began to enthusiastically suck up the fur, a short hose sucking clumps out of the air. Clint picked his feet up so the little robot could pass.  
  
“This is messier than I’d thought it would be,” complained Steve, picking a tuft of fur off his shirt. He worked with the shedding blade some more while the cleaning bot beeped happily around their feet. Tony began to purr, paws kneading at the towel. This was a little like getting a massage. Being groomed wasn’t so bad, the cat decided. Natasha got up and brought a lint roller back from somewhere, trying to control the spread of fur flying through the air. “Can you roll over, please?” asked Steve, pausing to clean the fur from the shedding blade. With a groan, like he was moving a mountain, Tony turned onto his other side and they repeated the process.  
  
They carefully combed over Tony’s chest and down his stomach. He purred loudly as the comb ran under his chin. Finally, they were done and had a big pile of black cat fur no longer attached to said black cat. Clint poked at it as Tony rolled to his feet and shook himself. “We have enough for another cat!” exclaimed the archer.  
  
“That didn’t take too long,” Bruce said, taking the comb and shedding blade from Steve.  
  
Natasha grabbed the edge of the fur covered towel. “Schootch,” she ordered. Tony jumped to the coffee table and Natasha bundled the towel up and took it away.  
  
“Wait! Wait! One more thing!” Clint pleaded, jumping up and bring back the case with the collar.  
  
“Clint,” Steve said sternly. “You’re taking the joke a little too far. Tony really isn’t a cat, remember?”  
  
“No, come on! It’s a really neat collar. It’s even red and gold!” Clint turned big puppy eyes toward Tony, wobbling his lip like he might cry. “Please, Tony-kitty?” Tony gave the collar a dubious look. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” The cat sighed but nodded and the archer gave a loud happy cry.  
  
Natasha came back out of the kitchen with a plate in her hands. Tony’s nose twitched at the delicious smell. “You are so lucky Tony is in a mood to indulge you,” she said as Clint took the collar out of its box and placed it around Tony’s neck.  
  
“Nonsense,” Clint said, focused on get the collar just right. “I’m Tony-kitty’s favorite person in the whole world.” Bruce snorted and Clint stuck his tongue out at him. “There!” He adjusted the collar so the arc reactor tag lay prominently on Tony’s chest. “Now, you can’t tell me that isn’t an awesome collar. You look great, Tony-kitty.”  
  
Tony tried to look down at himself but his head just didn’t move like that anymore. He meowed up at Steve worriedly. “It does look really nice,” the blond reassuringly said with a smile.  
  
Tony flicked his paw. “Of course, Sir,” said Jarvis. The TV turned on and displayed Tony sitting on the coffee table, red collar and golden tag around the cat’s neck. Tony turned his head this way and that, admiring it. He wasn’t one for jewelry, except for a few watches and tiepins, but he did have to admit the collar didn’t look too bad against his black fur. The tag was a nice touch, although he wouldn’t be telling Clint that anytime soon. He meowed approvingly.  
  
“Ha!” crowed Clint. “I knew he’d like it. And you both said he’d scratch my eyes out.” He smiled smugly at Natasha and Steve.  
  
Natasha rolled her eyes. “This just means Tony is going to enact some subtle revenge for daring to buy him a collar. I look forward to it personally.” She folded herself gracefully down onto the floor in front of the coffee table and offered Tony a small shrimp. “Your reward.” The cat chirped happily and licked the morsel from her fingers.  
  
“He’s not going to get revenge on me,” Clint said with a frown. He looked down at the cat and gave a huge smile, presenting his fist. “Tony-kitty and I are best buds. Bro fist bump for the win!” Tony gave him a bland look, licked his nose, and turned his body so his back was facing Clint. He accepted another piece of shrimp while Natasha smirked. “That was harsh, Tony-kitty. Way harsh,” whined the archer. Bruce chuckled as Clint pouted. The scientist cleaned the ottoman off with the lint roller and wheeled it back into the library.  
  
“You guys want to watch another movie?” asked Steve, standing and moving aside so the little cleaning robot could suck up the last of the stray fur.  
  
“The Princess Bride!” cried Clint, throwing his arms up.  
  
“No!” shouted Natasha. “And stop suggesting it or I’m going to kill you in your sleep!” Tony’s ears pinned back as he nipped up the shrimp from her fingers. The redhead could be very loud when annoyed.  
  
“We could play a game,” Bruce suggested as he sat back down in the armchair.  
  
“Pictionary?” Clint asked.  
  
“Steve has an unfair advantage in drawing games,” retorted Natasha. She sat the plate on the coffee table and Tony licked it clean with his pink sandpaper tongue.  
  
“Sorry,” Steve said sheepishly. The cleaning bot rolled back to its niche and slotted itself away with a happy beep. The blond man returned to sitting on the sofa.  
  
“Monopoly?”  
  
“You flipped the board off the table when you lost last time and swore you’d never play Monopoly again.”  
  
“Oh yeah. How about Candy Land?”  
  
“Bruce spilt his soda on the board last time and ruined it.” Bruce gave a sheepish look, taking his glasses off and polishing them on his shirt.  
  
“Jenga?” Clint suggested desperately.  
  
“Thor took half of the wooden blocks off somewhere. I choose not to know what he did with them.”  
  
“Ok!” Steve said loudly. “Movie it is then. Jarvis, pull up something we’ve never seen before.”  
  
“I require more information, Captain. I only know of the movies each Avenger has watched in the year they have been living in the Tower. I can’t be sure which movies they have or have not seen before that,” replied Jarvis. Steve looked pained.  
  
“Jarvis, new releases from the last 3 months,” demanded Natasha. The TV switched from a scene of the living room to a list of movie titles and DVD graphics. “Scroll down.” The page moved down as instructed. “R.I.P.D. That looks mindless and entertaining. We’ll watch that.”  
  
“Very good, Miss Romanoff,” Jarvis said. The movie appeared on the screen and froze on the opening graphic. Clint flopped back against the sofa and pouted.  
  
The redhead rolled her eyes and scratched between Tony’s ears. “Suck it up, Clint,” scolded Natasha. “Go make some popcorn or something.” The archer flung himself off the sofa and stomped across the room to the kitchen.  
  
“Bring some pop back with you,” called Steve over his shoulder.  
  
“Oh, shove it where the sun don’t shine!” Steve smiled to himself. Tony bumped his head against Natasha’s wrist, rubbing against her, before jumping over to the chair arm where Bruce was sitting. Tony oiled himself into Bruce’s lap, like a liquid. Bruce stuck two fingers under the collar to check it wasn’t too tight and then started petting along Tony’s back. Clint returned, dumping bowls of popcorn into everyone’s laps and putting a couple bottles of soda on the coffee table with loud thumps. “You guys are such turds,” he grumbled. The lights dimmed, hiding everyone’s snicker.  
  
Tony closed his eyes and curled up tighter in Bruce’s lap, soothed by the man’s steady touch. He didn’t know how long it had been when he was gently picked up and held in a warm embrace. “Come, kотёнок. Time for bed,” Natasha whispered to him. Tony blinked sleepily during the elevator ride up and was dead to the world again the second Natasha placed him down on the lacy duvet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "kотёнок" means kitten in Russian. Or at least Google tells me so.


	10. TEN

Tony woke up the next morning stretched across Natasha’s legs. He yawned and carefully slipped off the redhead’s limbs. Still, Natasha jerked awake, tensing and then relaxing quickly. Tony meowed softly at her in apology. “Morning,” she grunted, sitting up. Tony whiskers fluffed in amusement as he caught sight of her crazy bedhead. (That’s a good look for you.) Natasha glared blurrily down at him. “Shut it, kотёнок.” (What does that mean?) Tony thought as she left the bed and headed toward the bathroom. (Are you cursing at me? Calling me a bad name? I don’t know!)

Tony gave his twitching tail an agitated lick and jumped off the bed, his new collar jingling. He meowed over his shoulder loudly and walked to the elevator. “I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,” Natasha called back. Tony chirped in response and the elevator doors closed, heading down.

“Good morning, Sir,” Jarvis said courteously. Tony flicked a paw in the air, yawning. “Agent Barton and Doctor Banner are still asleep. Captain Rogers is already in the kitchen on the common floor. He appears to be making omelets.” Tony snorted, licking his nose. The elevator opened and he trotted off to use the bathroom. Business done and toilet flushed, the cat jumped up on the sink counter. The gold tag on the collar reflected the bathroom lights. “It does look quite fetching on you, Sir,” Jarvis said dryly as Tony admired himself in the mirror. Tony growled and flicked his tail, jumping down and storming out of the bathroom. “My apologies, Sir,” the AI said, his voice thick with humor.

Tony trotted into the kitchen and fumbled his way up onto his stool. Steve was standing at the stove, gently tipping a pan this way and that. Tony meowed at him quietly. “Good morning, Tony,” Steve greeted. His gaze dropped from Tony’s face to the collar around his neck. “Listen, you aren’t mad at Clint right? I mean, you aren’t going to rig his arrows to explode glitter all over him or anything as revenge, right?” the blond asked awkwardly. Tony’s ears swiveled and he squinted his eyes. (Well, I wasn’t thinking about it but that’s a really good idea.) “Because Clint really didn’t mean anything with the collar. He’s just being a butthead and having some fun. I just want to make sure you’re not mad at him. It’s hard to tell when you two are just playing a bit rough with each other and when you’re both really going at each other for blood.” Tony gave an insulted meow but shook his head. (Nah. Clint and I are bros. It’s fine, Steve.) Steve looked dubious. “So, everything is fine between you two?” Tony gave a calm nodded and Steve sighed in relief. “Thank god…”

This was the moment that Natasha breezed into the kitchen and headed to the fridge. “I told you Clint and Tony were fine,” she said, grabbing the orange juice.

“I know you said that but I can’t help thinking that Clint needs to cool it,” Steve protested, carefully flipping the omelet he had been making and sliding it out onto a plate. “I mean, Tony has been turned into a different species. I don’t think this is the right time to be poking fun at him.” He turned and handed Natasha the plate and the redhead sat at the island with her glass of juice and omelet. (Aw. Captain Protective Pants really does care about me! I’m getting an omelet too, right?)

“Clint doesn’t know how to relate to people when he’s not poking fun at them,” replied Natasha. “He and Tony are really just little boys and little boys use sticks and stones to interact with each other. They’re not actually trying to hurt each other.” Tony huffed loudly. (And again with the insulting thing. This is becoming a depressing habit.) Natasha ignored him and took a bite of her mushroom and pepper omelet. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied absently as he cracked more eggs into a bowl. “I just don’t want to stress Tony out any more than he already is or make him think we’re not supporting him.” The blond vigorously began beating the eggs with a whisk, as if he was annoyed at them.

Natasha looked down at Tony and the cat shrugged at her. (I have no idea what he’s talking about. I slept in your bed two nights in a row. I’m feeling all sorts of support and shit. Can I have some of your eggs?) Tony patted the edge of her plate with a hopeful look and the redhead smirked, cutting off a piece of her omelet that Tony gobbled down. “Tony and Clint are just fine. How they interact with each other works for them, Steve. Don’t worry about it too much.”

The archer in question shuffled zombie like through the kitchen door. “You jerks talking about me?” he muttered as he poured a cup of coffee.

“Yes, we are,” Natasha answered pleasantly.

Clint watched her blurrily, waiting for more explanation, but the redhead returned to eating her breakfast. Clint grunted in annoyance and collapsed onto a stool. “Fine. Be that way,” he muttered into his cup.

Steve rolled his eyes and slid the ham and cheese omelet onto a plate for the archer. “Tony, do you want some cat food or are you just going to eat half of Natasha’s food?” he asked pointedly. Tony looked guilty before creeping across the island and settling on his stool. He patted the countertop with a paw. (I’ll be good and eat my kitty slop, Cap.) Steve heated up a plate of duck pâté cat food with a roll of his eyes. “Jarvis, is Bruce awake yet?” he asked as he set the plate down in front of Tony.

“He is. Doctor Banner is currently in the middle of his morning yoga routine, Captain,” the AI replied. Clint winced while Natasha looked vaguely interested in that information. “Do you wish me to inform him that omelets are being served for breakfast?”

Steve nodded, cracking more eggs into the bowl. “When it won’t disturb him, yes. Thank you.” He whisked this batch of eggs and added a little bit of all the fixings he had sitting out on the counter to it. Steve poured the egg mixture into the pan and began to patiently swirl it. “Do you think we’ll get through the Upper West Side today, Natasha?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she answered, sipping her juice. “Depends on how quickly we move through Midtown.”

Clint groaned. “Oh god! Imagine the tourists. We’re going to barely be able to move through Times Square.”

“We’ll have to do the best we can,” said Steve calmly. “I want to be at least half way through the Upper West Side by the end of the day.” He plated his omelet and sat at the island with them.

“Are we going to search Morningside too?” asked Clint. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of schools.”

“We’ll leave no stone unturned,” Steve answered sternly, glancing at Tony like he was reaffirming his promise to the cat. Tony shifted in discomfort and was relieved when Bruce walked into the kitchen in a baggy pair of green sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt that had seen better decades. The others were all dressed in the under layers to their uniforms. “Morning, Bruce,” greeted Steve, standing and grabbing the eggs. “The usual?” His own omelet was mostly demolished.

“With sausage, if you have it,” replied Bruce as he grabbed some coffee and patted Tony between the ears as he sat.

Steve nodded and added all the veggies on offer, sprinkling in just a small handful of sausage as requested. “Coming up.”

“What are you and Tony going to be doing today?” asked Clint when they had all been served their omelets. “Watching more movies?”

“Actually, I was thinking about putting in some lab time today,” replied Bruce. He looked at Tony, who was washing his whiskers. “I’ve had an idea about that glue arrow you were having problems with for Clint.” Tony perked up, chirping at Bruce to go on. (Really? Lay it on me, science bro!) “I think if we added some sort of lubricant to the arrow’s firing mechanism it will keep it from jamming.” Tony’s ears drooped a little. (I thought of that but prolonged contact with any of the lubricants I have on hand will deteriorate the sticky substance and make the arrow useless.) “All we have to do is create a lubricant that won’t degrade the glue with prolonged contact,” mused Bruce, tapping his fork lightly on his plate while thinking. Tony smiled, his whiskers fluffing. (This is way you are my science bro and nobody else, Brucie. You can read my mind.) The cat head butted Bruce’s forearm affectionately with a purr. Bruce scratched at Tony’s ears with a confused smile.

“I just want to be able to stick bad guys to the sides of buildings,” lamented Clint.

Natasha gave a frustrated sigh, getting up to dump her plate into the sink. “Just because Spiderman does it, does not mean you have to too. Don’t be childish.”

“I’m not being childish!” Clint followed the redhead out of the kitchen, leaving his dirty plate on the island. “I just think it would be a useful arrow to have around.”

“Right,” Natasha’s voice echoed back drily.

Steve rolled his eyes and got up to put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “You guys have a good day and don’t do anything too dangerous,” he said with a smile, pausing next to the island.

“Same goes for you three,” Bruce replied seriously. “We all know the damage Loki can do when he gets really mad. He puts the Other Guy to shame.” Tony meowed in agreement.

“We’ll be careful,” Steve agreed. He stroked a hand down Tony’s back and made to leave the kitchen. “I hope we’ll have better news for you today, Tony. See you later.” He disappeared into the private elevator to finish dressing in his Captain America suit and head down to the garage to meet the others.

Bruce pulled lightly at one of Tony’s ears, drawing the cat’s attention away from the elevator he was staring at. The scientist gave the cat a lopsided smile and Tony narrowed his eyes at Bruce. (Oh, what’s with the knowing grin there buddy boy? I’m the only one around here allowed to be catty right now.) Bruce gave an amused shake of his head, confusing Tony even more. “You ready to get started? I have a list of lubricants I want to test.” Tony nodded with a huff and allowed the other man to scoop him up off the island counter and carry him down to his lab.

Bruce made Tony wear four little latex booties on his paws. Tony could see his point, delicate little paws and caustic chemicals did not mix, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing ever and it felt bloody weird. Tony flicked a paw but the latex bootie stayed in place. “Stop it,” Bruce said absently as Tony licked at his leg. The cat shifted, uncomfortable with not being able to feeling the tabletop under his paws.

A container of purple goo bubbled over and oozed across the table. It ate a pen and Tony jumped down to sit on a stool. “Test substance number four seems to be unstable, Doctor Banner,” Jarvis announced calmly.

“Fascinating,” muttered Bruce, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He picked up a metal probe and poked at the goo. The end of the probe hissed and dissolved. (I think it’s eating through the table.) Tony chittered in alarm.

“Test substance number four appears to be eating through the table, Doctor,” Jarvis warned. (Thanks, J.)

“Oh! Right.” Bruce grabbed a can of fire suppressant foam and sprayed down the goo. It hardened and he poked it again with the remaining end of the probe. The purple goo cracked like delicate sugar and fell into tiny pieces. (Looks like grape pixie stick candy.) Tony mused. “Yes, well. Test substance number four is a bust, Jarvis,” Bruce proclaimed.

“Noted, Doctor.”

“Maybe it had too much carbon?” muttered Bruce, ducking to riffle through a table full of jars. (Chemistry is messy.) Tony stayed on his stool, which appeared to be the only safe place in this mad house. Science was a whole lot less fun when his science bro wouldn’t let him do anything. Being without thumbs sucked.

A sudden alarm nearly startled Tony off his seat and Bruce jerked upright with surprise. “Sir, it appears the other Avengers have encountered Loki again,” reported Jarvis. Every monitor switched over to a news station or a hacked security feed. On the screen nearest Tony, Black Widow went tumbling across a patch of grass and gracefully bounced back onto her feet, a faintly annoyed look on her face.

“This is Amanda West reporting from Riverside Park,” shouted a woman on another screen. She was wearing a smart suit and just over her shoulder Tony and Bruce could see the others circling around Loki. “It appears that three of the Avengers, Captain America, Hawkeye, and Black Widow, are engaging a magic using assailant rumored to go by the name of Loki. We believe this is the same Loki that was reported to be behind the alien invasion and Battle of New York that damaged a good amount of our fair city last year.” The woman flinched as Hawkeye let loose an arrow that exploded nearly in Loki’s face, throwing a fine dust into his eyes. Black Widow and Captain America darted forward but Loki jumped away at the last minute, sailing into the air and rubbing furiously at his eyes. “For the past several days, these three Avengers had been searching the city for something. We don’t know what that something is but the noted absence of Iron Man, aka Tony Stark, the Hulk, and the reported god Thor is telling. We wonder why New York’s premier superhero team seems to be missing half its members.”

There were shouts from onlookers as Captain America tossed Black Widow into the air. The redhead grabbed hold of a surprised Loki and the two grappled. Tony growled as Loki grabbed hold of Black Widow’s hair, jerking her head back at a painful angle. She responded by punching him in the nose. They flailed in the air, whatever magic holding Loki aloft faltering. The god snarled something and struck Black Widow in the shoulder. Still, the woman hung on grimly, wrapping her legs around Loki’s waist and jamming her palm under his chin. They drifted lower as they fought until Captain America was able to jump up and catch hold of Loki’s foot, dragging them both to the ground. (Way to go Steve!) Tony pranced excitedly on his paws.

A cheer went up from the crowd. Black Widow sat on Loki’s chest, knees digging into his sternum, while Captain America held down his legs. Hawkeye jogged toward them with a huge grin on his face. The reporter began to walk forward, talking to the camera over her shoulder. “It looks like the Avengers have successfully subdued Loki. Perhaps now we can learn…” The woman yelped as there was a bright flash of green light and then the camera went flying, showing sky and then grass before landing on the concrete. The screen cut to fuzz.

“What happened?” demanded Bruce in concern. “Jarvis, what happened?”

“It seems Loki employed some form of magic to toss everyone away from him,” replied the AI. “One moment.” The screen switched to show some sort of black and white park security camera. They watched as the Avengers were thrown back by the magical blast and Loki stood, his lips moving but no sound available.  Black Widow rolled to her feet and ran forward but Loki merely sneered and disappeared in another flash of light that whited out the camera for a moment. When they could see again the Avengers were alone. Captain America punched the ground and pushed himself to his feet, frustration clear. Tony ears drooped in disappointment.

“They were so close,” Bruce muttered. He looked down at Tony with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Tony.” He patted gently between the cat’s ears, thumb running down the slope of Tony’s furry nose. Tony hung his head and Bruce scratched up behind his ears. The feline didn’t purr and Bruce sighed. He waved a hand in the air and the monitors turned off. “Why don’t we take a break? We can test the next lubricate later.”

Tony nodded with a soft meow, jumping from the stool and sulking his way out of the lab and down the hallway. He scraped the booties off his paws against the floor, licking at his irritated fur, and then wandered down to his workshop. Dummy and You beeped sadly at the cat as Tony entered. He chittered back at them. “I am sorry Captain Rogers and the others were unsuccessful in capturing Loki, Sir,” said Jarvis softly. Tony’s tail twitched and he jumped up on the tabletop. (Thanks guys. I guess I just have to be patient a little while longer, uh?) “I’m sure Thor will return from Asgard with help soon. We need only be patient,” Jarvis encouraged. Tony snorted quietly and laid down on the tabletop. He felt tired and disheartened and curled his tail over his nose, hiding from the world. The bots rolled over to their charging stations to mope.

It was only a few minutes later when Jarvis’ alarmed cry startled Tony out of his light doze, “Sir!” Tony jerked his head up as the air thickened and grew colder.

“You and your friends are becoming very tiresome,” snarled a familiar angry voice. Tony whirled around and hissed, his black fur puffing up. Loki glared down at the cat, his clothing and hair in disarray. A shallow cut on his cheek bled sluggishly. “I have been pursued across the city and hounded relentlessly when I am only minding my own business!” the god snapped. “It is exceedingly annoying and incredibly rude.”

“I demand you turn Sir back into a human,” Jarvis ordered sternly.

Loki smoothed back his hair and straightened his collar, a huge smirk forming on his face. “You demand, computer? How very presumptuous of something without a soul. Besides, I think this is an improvement for Stark. Surely the other Avengers like the Man of Iron better as a little kitty cat?” Tony growled. Dummy suddenly rushed forward with a sharp screech, the bot’s arm swinging toward Loki’s face. Loki flicked a hand with a scoff and Dummy skidded backward and fell onto his side with a whine. “Such curious toys you have, Stark,” Loki mocked.

(Dummy!) Tony launched himself at Loki’s smirking face with a yowl, sharp claws at the ready. Loki looked surprised for the second Tony was flying and then the cat landed on the god’s chest. He clawed at Loki’s face, aiming for his eyes. Tony’s fangs sank into Loki’s jaw and the cat bit as hard as he could. Loki screamed and yanked Tony away by the back of his neck. “You wretched beast!” shouted Loki, touching his bloody face with his free hand. Tony fought as he dangled from Loki’s grip, claws still reaching for a patch of skin to attack. “You will pay for that,” the god spat.

“Put him down Loki,” yelled Jarvis. You peeked fearfully over a table.

In the hallway, Bruce skidded to a stop in front of the windows. For a moment he looked shocked and then green began to spread across his skin, his body quickly growing in size. “I have no wish to tangle with the green monster again,” growled Loki. He glared at Tony, who glared back with furious golden eyes, and then the god flung the cat aside. Green light exploded in Tony’s vision and the cat felt as if all the air had been punched out of his lungs. Tony heard the enraged roar of the Hulk as the world collapsed upon his head, squeezing his chest like a vise. The fall seemed to take forever and then Tony hit the ground like a ragdoll, the impact jarring every bone in his furry body. Everything went black and then Tony knew no more.

Minutes or hours later, Tony didn’t know, he awoke again. Tony moaned softly. His whole body felt like one big throbbing bruise. (Ow. Ow. Ow.) His head pounded and he cautiously moved his legs, pleased when they obeyed his commands and no sharp pains assaulted him. (Nothing broken then, thank god.) When Tony got his hands on Loki, he was going skin that asshole with a dull butter knife, god or no god. (I hope the Hulk didn’t destroy my workshop.) He meowed softly, waiting for Jarvis or Bruce or even the Hulk to respond. Silence was his only answer. Well, no, not complete silence. He could hear a few birds singing and the faint rustle of wind through leaves. Panic bloomed in his heart and Tony peeled his eyes open, confirming his worst fear. He was outside somewhere.

Tony slowly sat up and looked around. Trees as far as he could see greeted him. This was definitely not his workshop or the Tower. It wasn’t even New York City as far as Tony could tell. It smelled much too clean. It could be somewhere deep within Central Park but Tony wasn’t about to trust his luck that Loki hadn’t tossed him as far as he could. He pushed himself to his feet and meowed again. A nearby bird flew into the air but otherwise there was no response. A cold shiver traveled down his back. (Oh god. Where am I? What the hell did Loki do?) Tony’s heart began to race and he turned in a quick circle. Nothing but forest in every direction.

(What am I going to do? I’m alone! I’m a cat, for fuck’s sake! How do I get home? How will the others find me?) They couldn’t, that was how. He was god knew where and with no means of communication. There was no way to track him. An animal made some sort of call off in the forest and Tony whirled, heart hammering in fright. He stared in the direction of the noise, searching for its source. Something then rustled in the bushes a couple of feet away and Tony yelped in surprise. He took off in a panicked sprint, racing over the leaf litter until he could dart underneath a fallen log. The forest took on a whole new appearance when you were small and furry and edible. Tony remembered the red tailed hawks on top of the Tower and hunched deeper under the log.

He lay shivering in the shadows, although it was not cold out, and listened to every sound the forest made. (What is that? Is it a wolf? Am I in a place where there are wolves? A coyote? A fox? Foxes are big enough to eat cats, right? Please don’t eat me! I probably taste horrible!) A brown rabbit slowly hopped past Tony’s hiding place, nibbling on grass. Tony closed his eyes in relief and hid his face against his paws. He breathed in the rich, damp earthy smell of his hiding place and tried to think rationally. Panic was not going to get him anywhere and feeling sorry for himself was a waste of time. He’d learned both those things the hard way with blood and sand and death. Loki had thought sending Tony into the wilderness was a death sentence. Well, Tony had died before. It didn’t seem to stick to him.

(Jarvis will be looking for me and Jarvis is everywhere there is technology. Every camera is Jarvis’ eyes, every microphone his ears.) Tony lifted his head and took a deep calming breath. He had two choices; stay in the forest and attempt to live and probably die of starvation or get eaten by some other animal. Tony sneered to himself. (No thank you. Option two please.) Or he could get off his butt and go be found. (As usual, I have to rescue myself.) Tony stood and the collar tag thumped against his chest. He lifted a paw to scratch at the collar and paused. He was still wearing the collar and tag; the tag that had the Tower’s phone number on it. (Oh Clint! I could kiss you! I can’t stay here. I need to find some people or civilization.) He needed a street camera system or some sort of security camera for Jarvis to be able to see him. It had to have a network connection. A closed circuit connection would be useless. The Internet made the world go round. Barring that, he needed a person that could call the Tower and say they had found their lost cat. (How humiliating.)

Tony crept out of the hole and cautiously looked around. The rabbit was gone. (Pity.) He wasn’t hungry yet and the thought of killing the rabbit and eating it raw made him nauseous but depending on how far away from civilization he was, catching his own food might become necessary. (I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Now, which way?) Every direction looked the same; trees, trees, and more trees. All he could smell was rotting vegetation, dirt, and, well, nature. Vast, empty nature. (Eenie meenie miney mo.) Tony started off through the woods, keeping to a fast trot and constantly scanning his area for other animals and possible predators.

Along the way Tony saw two more rabbits, a squirrel digging under a tree, and what he thought was a badger tearing nosily into a rotting log. He gave the last a wide berth. Before long the sunlight began to angle sharply through the trees, slicing through the air like golden spears. Tony stopped at a small stream to take a drink. The thought of the bacteria and microbes that might be in the water made the cat cringe but he was so thirsty that he had no choice. He must have been moving for a couple of hours now and his paws were sore and his legs tired. Night was quickly approaching as the sun set and the sky above turned pink and then sank into deep dark blue. Tony accepted that he was going to have to spend the night outside.

(I need to find someplace to hole up until morning.) Tony’s stomach grumbled but he ignored it. He jumped the stream and continued on, eyes peeled for a sleeping spot. A crevasse between some rocks on a stony slope turned out to be his best option. The cat climbed over the boulders, looking for a good location. He hissed and meowed, wary of startling anything already occupying a hollow. He found a crack he could just fit through and wiggled his way inside. It smelled like dirt and rot and other disgusting things but it had enough room for him to curl up and the opening was narrow enough that he didn’t think he’d have to worry about anything bigger than him and with longer teeth getting through.

Night fell and his little hidey hole grew dark, his night vision barely able to pierce the gloom. Tony watched the tiny sliver of sky he could see through the fissure above him. One by one stars came out and the moon rose. He blinked sleepily. He was lost and alone and uncomfortable. He missed his cat tree and Natasha’s lacy duvet on her warm bed and boutique cat food. He wanted Steve’s worried concern and Clint’s joking manner. He hoped Bruce was ok and not blaming himself. He wanted to be home. The cat sighed and laid his head on his paws, curling up tightly. Tony slipped into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "kотёнок" means kitten in Russian. Or so Google tells me.
> 
> (giggle) Lubricant. (giggle)


	11. ELEVEN

Steve Rogers was having a hard time controlling his temper. He was disappointed and frustrated because of their most recent altercation with Loki and their complete inability to pin the man down. Thor had been the only one who could ever really wrangle the other man into submission and without the thunder god they were at a distinct disadvantage. Plus, the more time that passed the guiltier Steve felt about not being able to change Tony back into a human. Now his left knee hurt and he was being questioned by a very pushy reporter who was not catching the hint that Captain America was losing his patience with her.  
  
“Can you tell us where the other members of the Avengers are, Captain?” asked the woman. Her suit was rumpled and there was a scrape on her cheek from where she had fallen during Loki’s escape. “Where is Iron Man? It’s unusual for one of your heavy hitters to be out of action for so long.”  
  
Steve tried to keep his expression bland and not grind his teeth together in annoyance. “As I’ve told you before, Miss West, I cannot divulge such sensitive in…” He paused as his radio beeped softly in her ear.  
  
“Captain?” asked the reporter, confused when he stopped talking.  
  
Steve turned away from her, putting his hand up to press his radio bud more firmly into his ear. “What is it, Jarvis?”  
  
“Emergency Code Red at the Tower, Captain,” Jarvis replied in a stiff voice. “Loki has appeared in Sir’s workshop. Doctor Banner is responding.”  
  
Steve stood stunned for a moment, the reporter’s voice buzzing like a gnat next to him, until Natasha sprinted past him. She whacked his shoulder on the way by. “Move it,” the redhead barked. Clint was fast on her heels and Steve shook himself and got himself in gear, following the other two to where Steve’s bike and an unremarkable black SUV were parked in an alleyway. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea and in the next moment they were to the vehicles and starting them up.  
  
“Hulk is active. Repeat: Hulk is active,” intoned Jarvis. There was a tense pause and then the AI continued, “Captain, Loki has employed some type of magic again and I can no longer see Sir.”  
  
“What does that mean?” growled Steve, cutting a sharp right and weaving his bike between traffic. The SUV Natasha and Clint were in was left behind as Steve sped down the street.  
  
“Sir is no longer in the Tower,” Jarvis fairly snapped back. “I cannot find him. Loki has also left. No other sign of Loki in the Tower. Beginning Hulk containment protocols.” Steve felt his heart climb up his throat, a cold burn in his chest like the ice was creeping over him again, and gunned his bike to dangerous speeds through the busy streets of New York City. But by the time he reached the Tower it was all over but for the crying.  
  
Hulk sat in the middle of the workshop, letting out the most sorrowful wailing fit to break your heart. The thick bulletproof windows that once separated the room from the hallway were shattered into tiny pieces and there were two large depressions in the concrete floor where Hulk had smashed his fists in rage. Miraculously, the rest of the room was fairly intact. A rolling stool had fallen over and Steve could see that some of the worktables had been pushed out of place, but it looked like the Hulk had not destroyed the room like they feared. Dummy was whining softly on the floor, trying to push himself back onto his wheels with You’s unhelpful assistance.  
  
Hulk wailed again, his cheeks wet from tears. It sounded like some huge wolf mourning a pack mate. “Hulk?” asked Steve softly, stepping inside. Glass crunched under his boots and the Hulk looked up, baring his teeth in a snarl. “What happened, Hulk?”  
  
“Kitty gone,” grumbled Hulk. “Bad magic man. Kitty gone.”  
  
Natasha and Clint arrived, stopping in the hallway as Steve inched forward and rested his hand lightly on Hulk’s arm. “Do you know where kitty went? Or the bad magic man?”  
  
Hulk bared his teeth again and then shook his head with a grunt. With a sniffle, the green giant began to shrink down into Bruce. Steve knelt by the man as Bruce curled his knees against his chest, looking pale and disheveled. “I’m sorry, Steve,” Bruce said sadly. He wiped his wrist across his eyes. “I was too late and couldn’t save Tony.”  
  
Steve felt numb and kind of dizzy. “It’s ok, Bruce. There wasn’t anything you could have done,” he soothed out of habit.  
  
“Jarvis?” asked Natasha. “Do we have any idea where Tony or Loki went?”  
  
“No, Miss Romanoff,” the AI replied in a subdued tone. “It appears that Loki has once again used his magical abilities. I do not have very much information about them nor do I have a way to track the signature.” A screen on the other side of the room flickered on and they watched the recording of Loki appearing in the workshop. Clint made a pleased hum when Tony launched himself at Loki’s face, doing a fair bit of damage before Loki got ahold of the cat and pulled him off. Then Loki was tossing Tony away with a flash of light and then disappeared himself a second later as Hulk came crashing through the windows. “I do not know what Loki has done with Sir.”  
  
Clint went over to haul Dummy onto his wheels, giving the bot a pat on his claw. Steve pulled a spare set of sweatpants from a cabinet and brought them to Bruce. Natasha paced, ignoring the glass crunching under her feet. “You cannot tell me you don’t have a way to track Tony,” she mused out loud. “Some sort of GPS device or search ability.”  
  
“Of course there are ways and if Sir were wearing or carrying any of them I would be able to locate him in a moment but Sir is not and thus I cannot,” Jarvis answered coolly.  
  
“Tony has trackers?” asked Clint, picking some tools up off the floor and setting them on the worktables. The workshop was usually messy in an organized chaos type of way but seeing it half trashed like this was unsettling. The archer found himself helping Dummy and You tidy just to get rid of the sense of wrongness in the space.  
  
“His wristwatch I know for sure,” replied Natasha absently. “His phone, of course. I suspect several other items he wears.”  
  
“Some sets of clothing and most of Sir’s shoes and sunglasses have tracers in them,” Jarvis informed them.  
  
“Well, I guess it’s not really paranoia if they’re really out to get you,” muttered Clint as he shoved a cabinet back into place with his shoulder.  
  
“What about the arc reactor?” asked Bruce. He’d unearthed a ratty pair of steel toed boots and was picking his way carefully across the glass to a computer console. “I mean, it has a pretty distinct signature. Can you track that?”  
  
“The arc reactor energy signature has been … muffled since Sir was transformed into a feline,” Jarvis explained hesitantly. “I do not think I will be able to locate Sir using that method.”  
  
Steve looked surprised and then worried. “Muffled? Why didn’t you tell us?”  
  
“I did not want to panic Sir. The energy signature was still there, just not to the level it usually is. I assumed it was a side effect of Loki’s magic and the transformation.” Jarvis paused and then continued more softly. “Sir’s reactions to events involving the arc reactor are often extreme,” he admitted.   
  
Natasha narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the AI being able to withhold information from his creator, even if Jarvis thought that was the best way to handle the situation. It suggested a level of self-awareness the redhead had not considered the AI capable of before. “What about a sub-dermal tracker?” she asked.  
  
“It was suggested after the kidnapping in Afghanistan but Sir refused.”  
  
Natasha made a frustrated sound. “No more body modifications after the arc reactor was shoved in his chest, I take it?”  
  
“Indeed. The resulting argument with Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes was … not pretty.”  
  
“Well shit,” complained Clint, the area around his eyes growing tighter as their options dwindled. “What can we do?”  
  
“We’ll have to do this the slow, old fashioned way,” Bruce said from his computer. “Through every camera, cellphone, and recording device we can hack into.” On the screen in front of him, on every intact screen in the workshop, flashed a scene of people and buildings as Jarvis wormed his way out into the world, looking, searching, stretching himself beyond the Tower.  
  
“One little kitty in the whole world?” demanded Clint. “I hate to admit it, but that’s impossible.”  
  
“We have no choice. Unless you have a better idea?” Bruce snapped, green flashing in his eyes.  
  
Steve took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the table he had been leaning heavily against. He had failed, Tony was gone and in possible danger, but there were things to do and plans to be made. He couldn’t wallow in worry and self-punishment. “Luckily, we’re used to doing the impossible,” Steve said, cutting off the brewing argument. “Natasha, head over to SHIELD and update Fury and Hill on what has happened. Ask for their help. Demand their help. We need as many eyes searching for Tony as we can get.” The redhead straightened, nodding at her orders and hurrying from the ruined workshop. “Bruce, stay here and assist Jarvis in hacking as many cameras and computer systems as you can.” Bruce didn’t even nod, already absorbed in what he was doing. The images from the computer screen flashed brightly on his glasses. “Clint, you and I will return to the streets and begin searching on foot. I’ll head south while you head north.”  
  
Clint nodded and followed Steve back down to the garage. The archer grabbed his bow case and tossed it lightly into the back of his jeep. Natasha had taken the SUV they had been driving before on her way to SHEILD Headquarters. “Do you really think Tony-kitty might still be in New York City?” he asked uncertainly.  
  
Steve straddled his bike, making sure his shield was secure on his back before pulling down his goggles. He kicked the starter and the bike rumbled to life. “No,” Steve answered shortly, quickly putting on speed and pulling out of the Tower garage before Clint could reply.  
  
It was a fruitless search. Hill called in over the radio while Steve was traipsing around dirty alleyways, shouting for Tony and being disappointed when the cats he startled out of trashcans weren’t black with golden eyes. Hill demanded Steve put on a jacket or something because Captain America wandering around New York City yelling the name of one of his team mates that had been unseen by the public for almost a week was beginning to trend on Twitter and Google. Steve put on his leather jacket, tucked his cowl under the collar, and hid his shield in a round canvas bag before continuing his search. He was still wearing bright blue pants and red boots but there was little he could do about that unless he went back to the Tower to change. A couple teams of SHIELD agents met him near the south end of Central Park and he directed them out in a grid pattern, sharing a picture of cat Tony from his cellphone that Jarvis sent him. Steve felt off balance as he recognized the picture as one taken from last night; Tony admiring his new red collar after being groomed.  
  
Steve didn’t know how many SHIELD agents Fury and Hill were willing to spare to search for Tony, so he was a little surprised when he kept seeing agents around the city. They weren’t hard to find if you knew what to look for. Most of them wore the same bland dark suit that Coulson – Steve swallowed down a lump in his throat – had always favored. He jumped as a group of three agents on the other end of the narrow road he was standing in called out ‘Mr. Stark?’, their voices echoing against the brick walls. Hill’s annoyed voice keyed over the radio, ordering the search teams to stop shouting ‘Mr. Stark’ all over the place. Civilians were beginning to notice. After that, Steve started hearing calls of ‘Tony’.  
  
“This is so freaking weird,” muttered Clint over their private channel.  
  
“Have you found anything?” Steve asked, ducking down to look under a bush.  
  
“No. A few black cats but no Tony-kitty.” The archer paused. “I’m gonna need Bruce to take a look at my arm later or something.”  
  
Steve frowned. “Why?”  
  
“I had an altercation with a momma cat,” Clint said shortly. “She didn’t appreciate me poking my nose into her home.”  
  
Steve’s lips quirked. “Ah.” He walked down the next row of houses. “Tony?” he shouted. Like all his other calls, this one went answered as well. A door banged open and closed behind Steve as he walked down the street. “Tony?” he called down a narrow gap between houses.  
  
“Looking for your dog, sir?” asked a young voice.  
  
Steve turned, making sure his jacket was zipped up high enough to cover the white star on his chest. A teenaged girl was tossing a garbage bag into a plastic trashcan, looking vaguely interested in the blond man wandering her street. “My cat actually,” Steve answered with a rueful smile. “Have you seen a black cat running around here this afternoon?” The girl’s face twisted, her shoulders flinching. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, excitement and worry intermingling. “What? What is it?”  
  
“There was a black cat around here this afternoon,” the girl confirmed hesitantly.  
  
Steve grinned and was unable to stop himself from taking an eager step forward. “Yeah? Do you know where the cat is now?”  
  
Her face crumpled a little. “I’m sorry. It was hit by a car.” Steve’s body turned cold and then flushed hot so fast that he felt like the top of his head was going to pop off. Things got a little fuzzy for a second and in the next moment Steve realized that he was leaning heavily against a lamp post and the teen was waving a hand in front of his face. “…you ok? I’m really sorry. I mean, maybe it wasn’t your cat at all. It could even be alright. Jenny’s brother took it down to the animal hospital but she said it didn’t look too good.”  
  
“He was still alive?” Steve asked breathlessly.  
  
She nodded. “The last I heard but that was hours ago.”  
  
“Where was he taken? Do you know?”  
  
“Yeah. The animal hospital on East 62nd Street, next to that little park on York Avenue.”  
  
Steve grabbed her shoulder, which made her look a little alarmed, and grinned. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”  
  
“Well, you’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t have better news.”  
  
“It’s enough to just have a lead,” Steve replied, releasing her. “Good evening.” He turned and hurried down the street, the girl’s farewell echoing after him. He keyed his radio. “You hear all that Jarvis?” Steve asked.  
  
“I did, Captain. I am plotting the quickest route to The Animal Medical Center.” Steve pulled his cellphone out and studied the map it was showing, memorizing it before slipping it back into his pocket and taking off down the sidewalk at a run. “Captain, your motorbike is in the opposite direction,” warned Jarvis.  
  
“It’d take too long. This is faster.” Steve ignored the crosswalk signal and dashed across the street. Someone yelled a curse after him but he didn’t even glance back as he rounded a corner.  
  
“As you say, Captain,” Jarvis replied. “I feel I must warn you that you are breaking several pedestrian laws at the moment.” A car horn blasted at Steve but he ignored it too. He felt as if he couldn’t run fast enough, even though he knew the serum had given him a running speed twice that of the fastest human sprinter. But he wanted to be at the animal hospital right then. Every second not at the hospital was a second Steve could feel slipping through his fingers. He dreaded what he would find there but not being there was squeezing at his heart even worse.  
  
Steve clomped to a stop in front of the animal hospital, not even breathing hard. The flags on the front of the building that had animal faces printed on them swayed gently in the early evening breeze. Steve had to remind himself not to wrench the door off its hinges as he entered. The lobby was lined with old chairs and had grungy grey linoleum on the floors but Steve barely noticed. He went straight to the counter where a middle aged woman with compassionate eyes was tapping at a computer. “Excuse me?” Steve fairly sobbed.  
  
The woman looked up and her face softened even more. “What can I do for you, dear?”  
  
Steve cleared his throat and managed to answer in something not a croak. “I was told a black cat had been brought in that had been hit by a car.” A lump tried to block his airway and Steve coughed again. “I think it might be my cat.”  
  
Her face creased in sympathy like the teenaged girl’s had. “Of course. Let me call a tech and have you brought back. Through that door, please.” Steve nodded and stumbled over to the door, finding a long hallway beyond.  
  
A younger woman appeared from a side door, ash blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing scrubs with little cartoon cats on them. “Sir? Mandy said you might be the owner of the black cat that had been brought in?” Steve nodded faintly, feeling lightheaded again. Sadness filled the woman’s eyes and she gestured to Steve. “This way.” Steve followed her into a large room filled with a wall of cages and four metal tables. One table was empty and another two had dogs laid out on them. The last table, off in the corner, held a black cat. “We’re doing all we can,” the tech was saying as Steve drifted forward. The cat was lying on its side, back to Steve. The narrow chest rose and fell in steady breath and the back legs were wrapped in heavy casts. There were tubes sticking out of a front leg and down the cat’s throat. “The damage was very extensive. We preformed surgery to fix the legs and repair some internal injury.” She seemed to realize that Steve wasn’t really listening to her and stopped. “I’m sorry,” she said softly as Steve rounded the table and let out a little gasp. “If she survives the night then she might make it but we doubt she’ll last the next few hours.”  
  
Steve felt tears well up in his eyes as he saw the little paw tipped with white and a sparse splotch of white on the cat’s belly. The techs words filtered through the roaring in his ears. “It’s not my cat,” he said. “My cat is completely black. And a boy.”  
  
The tech’s eyes brightened and she smiled. “Well that’s good news for you then. We haven’t gotten any other black cats in though.”  
  
Steve nodded. Tony wasn’t here then. He took a step away and glanced back down at the cat lying on the table. “Have you gotten hold of this cat’s owner?”  
  
“No. There was no collar and she’s not chipped either. She’s most likely a stray without a home.”  
  
A rush of sympathy filled Steve’s chest and he fumbled in his jacket pocket. “Here. Call this number and he’ll arrange payment for the cat’s treatment. Please do everything you can to save her.”  
  
The tech took the business card with the Tower’s number on it, the one that would reach Jarvis. “That’s very generous of you, sir. We’ll do our best.”  
  
“Thank you,” Steve replied before hurrying from the room. The smell of disinfectant and illness was beginning to make his nose burn.  
  
The woman at the counter must have seen the relief in his face because she smiled gently. “Good news?” she asked.  
  
Steve’s answering smile was lopsided. “Not my cat.”  
  
She nodded. “That’s good then. Good luck finding your cat.”  
  
“Thank you.” Out on the sidewalk Steve tapped his radio. “It wasn’t him,” he reported.  
  
“So I gathered. I have completed calls to 40% of the animal shelters, hospitals, and vet clinics in Manhattan but none of them report a cat matching Sir’s description being turned in,” Jarvis replied.  
  
Steve sighed. “I hope Tony doesn’t mind me spending his money like that.”  
  
“I dare say Sir would find it extremely appropriate given the circumstances, Captain. The cat’s medical bills will be covered without a problem. I have taken the liberty of uploading a map of the area you are in to your cellphone if you wish to continue the search for Sir presently.”  
  
“Yeah, might as well,” muttered Steve, hearing his cellphone ding in his pocket. He dug it out and turned to retrace his steps. The sun was slanting through the buildings at a sharp angle, the afternoon sliding into evening. He crossed the street, walked down half a block, and entered an alleyway behind an apartment building. “Tony?” he called into the darkening shadows. This call went unanswered as all the others had too.  
  
It was only a couple of hours later when the streetlights began to buzz on. “I should have brought a flashlight,” Steve scolded himself softly. His radio beeped.  
  
“Captain, I hate to say it but we’re pulling our teams in for the night,” announced Hill. “It’s getting too dark to continue the search.”  
  
Steve pulled in air to argue, feeling anger heat the back of his neck, and nearly fell over a piece of debris in the gloom. His indignation popped like a soap bubble and drained away to simple tiredness. “Understood, Agent Hill,” he replied, rubbing at a headache threatening above his right eye. “We appreciate your help.”  
  
“We’ll resume in the morning, Captain. We’ve informed all of our field agents to be on the lookout for Mr. Stark as a cat and circulated the photo that was provided.” Hill paused and when she next spoke her tone was carefully flat and neutral. “If Stark is on Earth and still alive, we have good chance of finding him ourselves.” It was a cautioning as much as it was a reassurance. They would find Tony, if he was able to be found.  
  
Steve winced. “Thank you, Agent Hill. Have a good night,” he said with cool politeness. Hill disconnected without a reply.  
  
Clint let out a grumble over the line. “Man, Tony-kitty is not going to be happy when he hears all of SHILED has a picture of him as a cat. He’ll flip his lid.”  
  
Steve felt his lips attempt to curl into a pained smile. “Have you found anything?”  
  
“No,” Clint answered dejectedly. “I did rescue what I thought might have been Tony-kitty from a tree in a park but he turned out to have a white patch on his belly. And he tried to bite my nose off.” A soft chuckle wormed its way out of Steve’s mouth. “Why don’t we head back to the Tower, Cap? I’m starving, I know you have to be famished, and neither of us are doing any good stumbling around in the dark. The dinky flashlight I had in my bow case is not cutting it and I know you don’t have a flashlight at all.”  
  
Steve found himself nodding. He didn’t want food but his stomach was tight with emptiness and not even the super soldier serum could make him see in the dark. “Alright,” he agreed. “Let’s regroup at the Tower.”  
  
“Roger. See you there.” Steve rolled his eyes and jogged around the block to retrieve his bike. Bruce was still watching cameras and hacking feeds when they arrived back and, to their surprise, so was Natasha. She had set up camp at a bank of computer screens across from Bruce and was busy typing one handed while she sipped tea with the other. The redhead gave Steve a bland look when he stared at her in disbelief. She had showered and changed out of her gear at some point and was now wearing some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt with her hair pulled haphazardly up. The glass from the broken windows had been swept away and the few things that had been knocked over had been put to rights. There were still two fist shaped dents in the floor though.  
  
Clint hopped up on a worktable and swung his feet in the air. “Any luck?” he asked.  
  
“There are an annoying amount of black cats on the eastern seaboard,” growled Bruce with a vicious jab at his keyboard.  
  
“We have had many sightings but none have turned out to be Sir,” Jarvis reported.  
  
“Director Fury had to have a conversation,” Natasha didn’t use her fingers to make the air quotes but they could hear them implied in her speech, “with the FBI and CIA after they noticed our hacking activities and had a little freak out.” She gave a tiny smile. “Apparently, Jarvis makes them nervous.”  
  
Clint snorted. “Jarvis makes all the talking heads nervous.”  
  
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Agent Barton. Shall I order pizza for dinner or would you all like something different?” Clint and Natasha shrugged while Bruce waved a hand carelessly.  
  
Steve sighed. “Pizza is fine, Jarvis,” he said wearily.  
  
“As you say, Captain.”  
  
“I’m going to go get cleaned up. I’ll be back down for dinner,” Steve announced. He headed up the hallway and entered the elevator to take him to his floor.  
  
“Poor Steve,” muttered Clint with a frown. “I hope he isn’t beating himself up about Tony-kitty.”  
  
“Steve feels responsible and his budding feelings for Tony aren’t making his transformation and disappearance any easier,” Natasha said absently.  
  
“He’s actually handling this fairly well,” Bruce add. “I expected him to get more unreasonably overprotective than he has. Tony would not have reacted well to such restriction.”  
  
Clint dragged his legs up onto the table, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Maybe we could have stood to be a little more protective than we were,” he mumbled.  
  
Bruce took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, sighing. “We couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”  
  
“We can’t blame ourselves,” Natasha said firmly. “It serves no purpose. What we need to do is continue to look for Tony and find him.” Dummy wheeled over carefully with another cup of tea and gently set it down at the redhead’s work area. “Thank you, Dummy,” she said pleasantly. Dummy chirped, picked up the empty cup, and rolled back to the kitchenette in the corner of the workshop. “Can I drink this, Jarvis?” asked Natasha, peering into the cup.  
  
“Yes, Miss Romanoff,” Jarvis replied. “It was made correctly.” Natasha took a sip while Bruce smiled wanly in amusement.  
  
Clint jumped off the table. “I’m going to get cleaned up too and tend to my battle wounds.”  
  
“Wounds?” echoed Bruce, blinking at him.  
  
“Just an unhappy feline I disturbed.” Clint showed them his arm, which had some shallow cuts running from his elbow to his wrist.  
  
Bruce hummed and dismissed him, deeming that the archer did not need a doctor’s care. “You know where the first aid kit is.” Clint made an acknowledging sound in his throat and left the workshop. A screen to the right of Bruce froze, displaying a picture of a black cat trotting down a road somewhere in Richmond, Virginia. The picture zoomed in and little white boxes danced over the cat as Jarvis gave the feline a more thorough scan. The cat was then dismissed as having the wrong body dimensions and eye color. The picture zoomed out and continued to search. Bruce sighed and went back to hacking the street cameras of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.


	12. TWELVE

I want to just have my say before people comment. I love Pepper. She is an awesome character. I, however, know how difficult going from long time good friends to lovers can be and how hard loving a hero is. Pepper is a strong, capable woman who kicks ass but she’s being asked to make a lot of sacrifices in loving Tony. A lot is being asked of her and I think it’s realistic for her to have a few problems with those changes. I’ve always thought that Tony and Pepper would be better off as friends, rather than lovers. So, I am not bashing Pepper in this chapter. Please don’t blow up at me. But I would love to know what you all think!

* * *

  
Steve and Clint showered and changed out of their gear. They then took the pizza boxes down to the workshop. Clint climbed up onto a table and sat cross legged while Bruce and Natasha remained at their computers, taking bites of their pizza between frantic key strokes. As soon as the cheese and tangy tomato sauce hit Steve’s tongue his stomach roared to life and he wolfed down the slice in three huge bites. Breakfast had been over fifteen hours ago and they had not stopped for lunch. Steve hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he came up for air after quickly downing four slices. He turned a little red as Clint smirked at him, stopping to wipe his mouth with a napkin.  
  
They watched the computers do their work. Every time a screen paused on another black cat and began its scans, Steve felt himself lean forward in anticipation. But it was never the right cat. Most were discounted by some white patch on the chest or belly. Others were too big or too small or had fur not the right length. None of them had the right eye color.  
  
Steve finished his pizza, faintly surprised when he reached for the next slice and found the box empty. Clint offered him some toasted ravioli and Steve munched his way through those too. Jarvis interrupted them with a sound not unlike someone clearing their throat. “I am sorry, but Miss Potts has arrived at the Tower and is demanding to speak to you, Captain Rogers.”  
  
Steve paled, coughing a little as his ravioli went down the wrong pipe. “Of course,” he gasped out. “I’ll be up in a moment.”  
  
“I’ll come too,” Natasha announced, setting her pizza aside and getting up.  
  
“You don’t have to do that, Natasha,” Steve said. He cleaned his hands on a napkin and glanced down at his shirt to make sure nothing had spilled on it.  
  
The redhead gave an unimpressed twist of her lips. “You’ll need me,” said Natasha firmly. Steve just nodded rather than fight about it. Really, he probably did need Natasha’s help.  
  
Steve shifted nervously in the elevator as it rose and let them out in the penthouse. It was odd for him to be in what was essentially Tony and Pepper’s place, even if she hadn’t been coming home since Tony had been turned into a cat. The black leather couches had bright pillows on them and there was a small vase of flowers that were a couple days past their prime sitting on the bar. Pepper was pacing in front of the huge windows, her heels loud against the floors. “Jarvis called me this afternoon while I was in a conference with the European division,” she said briskly. “Has Tony really been kidnapped again? As a cat?” The word ‘cat’ ended in a slightly uncontrolled shrill note.  
  
Steve couldn’t stop himself from wincing. “We don’t know if he’s been kidnapped. All we know is that Loki used his magic to send Tony off somewhere. We’re looking for him everywhere we can.”  
  
“Not again,” Pepper muttered, bringing her thumb up to her mouth to chew on the nail. “This can’t be happening again.” Steve reached out to touch her shoulder but Pepper twitched away from him and started pacing again. “The board is not happy. They think Tony has gone off on a bender somewhere and is lying in a pool of his own vomit in a Spanish nightclub or whatever. What the hell am I supposed to tell them when they ask where the majority shareholder is hiding again?” she growled. “That he’s off chasing pigeons and will get back to them as soon as he can?”  
  
“You tell them the truth,” Natasha said calmly. “That Iron Man was called out and he is currently engaged in a long term mission. If they ask for more details, just say you don’t know the specifics or that that information is classified.”  
  
“Yes, Iron Man,” Pepper spat. “The answer to the world’s every problem.” She froze and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath through her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said, opening her eyes again. “That was uncalled for. I know Iron Man is important to the security of our world. Do you have any idea where he might be?”  
  
Steve shook his head, feeling confused. “I’m sorry to say we don’t, Miss Potts. We have limited resources when dealing with Loki’s magic and he could have teleported Tony anywhere in the world. Or outside of it, for that matter.” Pepper seemed to deflate as Steve spoke, sinking down onto the piano bench. Steve hesitated. “Are you alright, Miss Potts?”  
  
Pepper sniffled loudly, a sound out of place with her stylish suit and elegant hair. “No,” she murmured. Steve took a step forward and then paused, hands opening and closing uselessly. He had no clue how to comfort the woman. Natasha walked past him and handed Pepper a box of tissues. “Thank you,” Pepper said softly, pulling one out and dapping at her eyes.  
  
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Natasha asked seemingly out of nowhere. Pepper blinked up at her, eyelashes spikey with wetness but no tears on her cheeks. “Loving a hero, I mean. Love is always hard but loving someone who is constantly in danger, who chooses to put themselves in constant danger, is extra hard. I have no idea how you managed it in the first place with someone like Tony Stark.”  
  
“Tony isn’t so bad,” Pepper protested as Natasha sat next to her, not touching but present all the same. “Even before Afghanistan he had his charms and he certainly was always charismatic.” She took another tissue as fresh tears sprang to her eyes and Natasha took the opportunity as Pepper’s gaze was turned away to flap a hand at Steve. He started tiptoeing slowly back toward the elevator. Pepper chuckled mockingly at herself. “I was half in love with him even then but most of the time it felt like I was taking care of a child. He couldn’t do anything himself, or didn’t want to, at least. I watched him careen like a spinning toy top for years. Not the best atmosphere for a relationship.”  
  
“But he came back from Afghanistan all grown up and a changed man,” Natasha prompted.  
  
Pepper nodded. “I thought he had lost it, at first,” she admitted. “He shut down Stark Industries’ weapons production and then disappeared into his workshop for weeks. He wouldn’t talk to me or Happy. Not even to Rhodey. The first time I saw the suit, I didn’t know what to do. Then we discovered that Stane had been selling Stark Industries weapons to the enemy and had tried to orchestrate Tony’s murder and…” A dry sob caught in her chest and Pepper stopped talking.  
  
Steve backed up against the doors of the elevator but they didn’t open. “Jarvis?” he muttered out of the side of his mouth. The AI didn’t respond and the doors remained stubbornly closed. He crept off to the side, where he hoped the corner would hide him, and did his best potted plant impression.  
  
“Suddenly Tony wasn’t just a man-child you were trying to manage,” Natasha said gently. “Suddenly Tony was a hero and he was doing good and turning his life around and the slow burn between you both turned into a wildfire.”  
  
Pepper gave a wet laugh. “We’d been dancing around each other for years! After the whole Stark Expo fiasco, it was like all of our feelings just exploded. It seemed like Tony was finally ready to move to the next stage of our relationship, not just as Mr. Stark and Miss Potts but as a couple.”  
  
“What happened? What changed? Why are you having trouble now?”  
  
“I discovered that Tony was telling the truth when he said he and the suit were one,” Pepper whispered. She bowed her head and wiped at her eyes.  
  
“Ah. Like I said, loving a hero is hard,” replied Natasha.  
  
“I feel so selfish and stupid,” confessed Pepper. She pushed some stray hair back from her face and sniffled. “I mean, I know the world needs Iron Man. Tony needs Iron Man. But every time I see him fly off in the suit I feel this anger and dread overwhelm me.”  
  
“It only got worse after he flew into the wormhole during the Battle of New York,” observed Natasha.  
  
“Yes!” exclaimed Pepper. “I thought he was dead and I was stuck on that damn plane. Every news station was showing the battle and we were watching and I saw him just fall out of the wormhole, limp and lifeless, and I was so angry. I didn’t understand why. I mean, I was fine when Phil brought the file on the Avengers and Loki the night before, I knew Tony would have to go out as Iron Man sometime soon, but all I could feel was this uncontrollable anger bubbling inside me. I was scared and worried but I was more angry than anything else and I can’t understand it.”  
  
“You feel angry and abandoned when Tony leaves you to fight as Iron Man,” Natasha said gently.  
  
Pepper jerked her head to the side and stared wide eyed at the other woman. Then she slowly nodded. “I… Every time I think it’s done, that everything is finally over with and we can go back to our lives, something else happens and Tony goes off to play hero again, risking his life to save the world and all that.” Pepper gave a scornful chuckle. “After the Battle of New York and the Chitauri, you guys moved into the Tower and the Avengers were an official thing and Tony seemed so pleased about it all and I knew Iron Man was never going to be done. Something was always going to happen where Iron Man would be needed. I thought… I convinced myself that that was ok. I was used to Tony going off halfcocked and completely wild but lately I just find myself getting angrier and angrier with every fight or mission.”  
  
Natasha gave a sympathetic nod. “But you weren’t in a relationship back then. You were his PA and his very close friend, but not his girlfriend. It’s different when you’re trying to be with someone, when you’re putting your heart on the line. It’s all changed and it’s understandable if those differences mean that you and Tony don’t work as a couple.”  
  
Tears gathered in Pepper’s eyes again. “I don’t want to leave Tony. I love him,” she said with anguish.  
  
“There is a difference between loving Tony and being in love with Tony, Pepper. You need to figure out if you’re ok with Tony’s first priority being Iron Man and his duties as a hero. More changed for Tony in Afghanistan than just a shot of maturity. He’s not the person you managed and babysat for years anymore. That’s left you unbalanced and a little unsure how to handle Tony. Maybe you feel a little resentful that you’re no longer the center of his world.”  
  
Pepper flinched. “I don’t hate you guys. I think you’re all great people.”  
  
“But we’re not anything you’ve had to deal with before. Being a hero and flying around in a mechanical suit is not the same as hiding from board meetings or drinking too much at a nightclub and ending up in a celebrity gossip magazine. More has changed between you and Tony than just becoming a couple and you’re never going to be happy if all you want is for everything to go back to the way it was.” Pepper sniffled, her eyes hiding behind her bangs. Natasha laid her hand on the other woman’s arm. “Do you want some time to think?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Pepper said softly. “I think that’s best.” Natasha nodded and stood, walking toward the elevator. “You’ll do everything you can to find Tony, right?” Pepper called after her, face a little wild. “I don’t know what I’d do if something really happened to him.”  
  
“We will find Tony, I promise you that,” Natasha replied, turning back to give Pepper a confident reassuring smile. Pepper smiled lopsidedly and nodded. The elevator doors opened as Natasha approached and Steve scuttled inside the carriage as unobtrusively as he could. “Back to the workshop, Jarvis,” Natasha instructed.  
  
“Yes, Miss Romanoff.”  
  
Steve stared at the redhead. “Did you just encourage Miss Potts to break up with Tony?” he demanded in disbelief.  
  
“No,” Natasha replied, a touch defensively. “I encouraged Pepper to reevaluate the relationship between herself and Tony. Now Pepper will be able to think carefully about what she wants to do and either decide she wants to stay with Tony or break it off with him before either of them get hurt.”  
  
Steve pressed his lips into a thin line. “Tony will be crushed if Miss Potts breaks up with him.”  
  
The elevator doors opened and Natasha jammed her thumb against the ‘close doors’ button. They slid shut again, giving them privacy. Natasha glared at Steve. “And how do you think Tony will feel if Pepper can’t handle being the girlfriend of a hero and has a meltdown or, worse, blows up at Tony? He’ll think it’s his fault and probably just collapse in on himself. You know his self-worth is in the pit. If Pepper can get herself together now that we’ve talked and deal with the issues in their relationship and really accept Iron Man as part of Tony’s life, then that’s great. But if she can’t, it’s better that they break if off now and as calmly as possible. I want them to remain a couple but Pepper is not happy right now and that’s making Tony miserable. If they can’t work it out, then I at least want it to be possible for them to remain good friends.”  
  
Steve dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to meet Natasha’s fierce gaze. “They love each other,” he muttered mournfully.  
  
“They do,” agreed Natasha, her shoulders relaxing. “But there are many ways to love a person, Steve, and not everyone is capable of all of them. Maybe Tony and Pepper would be better off as friends, like they used to be. I don’t know. I can only hope they work it out without tearing each other to pieces.” She sighed and released the ‘close doors’ button. “Come on. I didn’t finish my pizza and I know you’re still hungry. Hopefully Clint and Bruce kept our food warm.”  
  
The walked down the hallway to the workshop, hearing Clint’s voice echoing out of the room. “…then the little punk threw his empty soda can at me and … What’s wrong?” the archer asked as they entered the workshop, knowing immediately that something was wrong with his fellow SHIELD member.  
  
Natasha walked over to him and leaned against his torso, hiding her face against his shoulder. “Ugh,” she moaned. “I had to give Pepper relationship advice. I feel dirty.” Clint chuckled and reached up to pat her hair.  
  
Bruce looked up from his computer. “What do you think she’ll do?”  
  
Natasha pulled away from Clint and returned to her desk, picking her slice of pizza back up. “I don’t know. It could go either way. It depends if Pepper can find the strength in herself to be the girlfriend of a hero. She’s strong but she’s used to dealing with difficult businessmen, media circuses, and stubborn, annoying man-children. Dealing with the life of a hero, of someone who could get really hurt or even die every time they go out, well, that’s a type of hell very few people have the ability to cope with. Her love story is turning into a horror story and she’s having problems accepting the change.”  
  
Steve leaned against a worktable, a disapproving look on his face. “I don’t think we should be interfering in Tony and Miss Potts’ personal life. It’s none of our business.”  
  
Bruce’s face twisted. “Normally, I’d agree with you Steve but you saw how Tony reacted when Pepper first saw Tony as a cat. He went from playing around with us to hiding in the cat tree and that was just after a little scolding. Could you imagine how Tony would react if Pepper had an even worst reaction when something happens in the future? He’d shut down.”  
  
Clint waved a mozzarella stick in the air. “I’d always gotten the impression Potts didn’t like us very much.”  
  
“Pepper likes us just fine,” Natasha said. “She’s more confused by the changes in Tony than jealous toward us. Pepper is used to being Tony’s only friend and being the girlfriend of a hero is hard, harder than she expected I think.”  
  
Clint smirked. “This is nothing she was ever trained for, huh?”  
  
Natasha rolled her eyes and threw the parmesan cheese bottle at him. “Don’t parrot my words back to me. You know what I mean. She’s a civilian and, as much as Fury might growl about it, Tony isn’t anymore.”  
  
Steve looked pensive, chewing on his lip. “Do you really think Tony and Miss Potts are having relationship problems?”  
  
“Steve,” sighed Bruce, “in the last month, do you know how many nights Pepper has spent in the Tower?” Steve frowned, his mouth opening and closing but unable to answer. “Four. Pepper has spent the night with Tony here for only four nights this month. So, yes, we think they are having relationship problems.”  
  
“She could have been just busy. I mean, Tony has been a cat for almost a week now,” protested Steve.  
  
“Pepper was in New York City for sixteen days out of the last thirty. In that time she slept in the Tower for four nights and spent the other twelve in a hotel. They have shared three lunch dates and only one dinner date and that was simply to Carl’s Burgers. Happy said they ate in the limo,” Natasha recited. “I knew they were having problems before Tony had been turned into a cat.”  
  
Clint shook his head with a grin. “You need a hobby.”  
  
Natasha flipped him off. “I notice these things. Shut up.”  
  
Steve sat down in one of the roller chairs. “I don’t want Tony and Miss Potts to break up. Tony really loves her. Isn’t there something we can do to help them?”  
  
“Natasha has put Pepper on the right path,” Bruce said with a gentle smile. “The best thing we could do is find Tony and make sure he’s safe. Pepper is the only one who can decide how she wants to handle their relationship.”  
  
“I feel like I’m trapped in a daytime soap opera,” muttered Clint. He downed the last of his beer and belched before jumping off the worktable he was sitting on. “I’m going to head to bed. I’m assuming I’ll be up bright and early to search the city for Tony-kitty?” Steve dredged up a sickly smile and nodded. “Lovely. Catch you later.” He left through the empty window pane and headed up the hallway to the elevator. Dummy and You rolled over to the worktable and collected the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles.  
  
Steve massaged the bridge of his nose with an aggravated noise. Bruce and Natasha looked at each other. Natasha tilted her head slightly toward Bruce. It was the scientist’s turn. “I know you’re worried, Steve, but there isn’t a lot we can do to help Pepper. If she wants to talk, she’ll talk to one of us. We’ll keep looking for Tony in the meantime and hope Thor gets back soon with help to turn Tony back into a human,” Bruce tried to sooth.  
  
“I know,” muttered Steve. “I just can’t imagine how Tony is going to feel if Pepper decides to break up with him. I didn’t even realize either of them was unhappy. Now Tony is lost and doesn’t even know Pepper is deciding the future of their relationship. It doesn’t seem fair.”  
  
“Love often isn’t,” Bruce said softly. “Life in general often isn’t fair either.” Steve gave him a displeased look and Bruce just smiled back at him. “Here. Why don’t you finish my veggie pizza? I’m done eating and I can hear your stomach complaining from over here.” Steve picked up the pizza slice being offered and began to chew, thinking deeply.

  
(**)

  
Tony woke up disoriented. He blinked blurrily around his little hidey hole, confused as to what woke him up and why he wasn’t either someplace warm and soft or sacked out on a keyboard in the workshop. Silver light shone through the crack above Tony and when he turned his head he scratched his nose against some rough rock. (Ow! Damnit all to hell.) He shook his head and pawed at his face. (Right. Cat, Loki, lost in the woods. How lovely.) The feline gazed up at the moon waxing toward full, wondering what woke him.  
  
For a long moment Tony listened, but all he could hear was the chirp of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. He licked his smarting nose and laid his head back down on his paws. A couple of minutes later faint scratching jerked Tony out of a doze. Something, something with claws, was pawing around the rocks and making its way closer to Tony’s spot. He listened and stared up through the crack, tense but silent and still. The scratching came closer, heavy sniffing joining in. Tony didn’t know what it was. If it was big, he’d be ok down in the hole. If it was a smaller animal but an herbivore, it wouldn’t care about the cat anyway. What he really worried about was something small but vicious, like a weasel. A tangle with a weasel would be bad.  
  
(That’s right, buddy boy.) Thought Tony as the sounds from above moved away. (Nothing to find here. Go about your business.) The animal snorted and sneezed and Tony’s ears swiveled around. It sounded big but he didn’t know what it was. The cat’s heart beat a frantic pace, fright holding his body rigid. Then the moonlight was blocked out as something passed overhead and an inquisitive nose poked into the crack. (Son of a bitch!) Tony hissed and growled, a quick paw striking out. Claws raked across the animal’s muzzle and it jerked back with a yelp. The cat hissed loudly again in warning. (You do not want to mess with me, buster!)  
  
The snout came back, fangs visible to Tony in its mouth. Tony thought it was a coyote. It was too big to be a fox but smaller than what he thought a wolf would be. A gray paw and leg was trust through the fissure and Tony pushed himself away. (Damnit! Go away!) He clawed and bit the leg, howling and growling to wake the dead. The canine yelped and barked, digging at the crack. Tony clawed and bit any part of the coyote he could get ahold of until eventually the beast withdrew. It growled and pawed at the hole for another second before leaving to find easier prey. Tony was crouched down low in the hole, shaking with rage and terror and with the taste of blood on his tongue.  
  
Tony felt bruised all over from being banged against the sides of the crevice and he thought the canine might have scratched him on the shoulder with its blunt claws but the beast had been unable to fit its head inside. Slowly, the cat relaxed as silence fell over the forest. The crickets started up again. Tony licked his whiskers, disgusted but wanting to be clean. He settled shakily down onto the ground but kept a wary eye on the crack above him. (This sucks. I want to be home.) Tony didn’t sleep for the rest of the night and was intensely grateful when the sun rose, turning the sky blue and pink.


	13. THIRTEEN

Tony didn’t sleep for the rest of the night after the coyote wandered off. He watched the small patch of sky he could see through the crack of the hole he was hiding in and counted the minutes until dawn turned the sky pink. Birds began to sing out in the woods and Tony rubbed his eyes, yawning. (When I get home, I’m going to sleep for a week.) He stood, feeling sore and not at all rested. Tony cautiously listened for any sounds that could be another animal nearby but couldn’t hear anything. He poked his head up through the fissure and looked around. (The coast looks clear.) The cat wiggled out of the hole and climbed down the rocks to the ground. Tony’s shoulder ached where the coyote had scratched him and he licked at the tender area. His shoulder seemed mostly bruised, the skin intact. Tony sighed. (That’s going to make walking fun.)

The feline was thirsty but the only water Tony knew of was the shallow creek he’d crossed yesterday and he refused to go backwards in his travels. He trotted determinedly forward through the early morning woods. Hunger gnawed at Tony’s belly and he’d never thought he’d miss chicken pâté cat food as much as he did right then. His ears twitched at every little sound in the brush but he refused to eat a rodent or something. He may be furry and with four legs but he was still a human in his mind. Tony kept his nose pointed forward and prayed he’d reach civilization before his belly shriveled up inside him.

(I have never been so bored in my life.) This was worse than being in his workshop but being unable to do anything without thumbs. Tony made his way briskly through the wood, keeping an ear out for anything that sounded bigger than he was. Finally, in the late morning, Tony heard the sweet sound of moving water. (Aw yeah!) He rushed forward until he found the swiftly moving stream. (Aw no! Crap, crap, crap.) The stream was about 10 feet wide and had steep banks. Even if he could get down to the water’s edge, there was no guarantee he could cross the stream without being swept away or drowning or be able to climb back up the tall muddy slope.

(I refuse to turn around!) Tony snarled to himself. He had traveled all yesterday afternoon and all that morning, had little sleep in a cold rocky hole, and he was not losing all his progress because of a little water. He started looking for a way to cross. About half an hour later, a fallen tree presented a likely route. The tree was old, its leaves long gone, but the top branches reached the opposite side of the waterway. (I can do this. I can. It’s just like the ramp ways on the cat tree. Easy peasy.) Tony jumped up onto the trunk and eased himself out into the tree’s limbs.

Soon there was nothing but air and running water under the branches. Tony paused and looked down at the water. He was thirsty and this had been the first water he’d seen that day. Who knows when he’d find more? He shifted a paw to a downward leading branch, undecided. Tony could practically hear Cap’s voice in his ear, urging him not to take any risks in the same concerned tone he used when he told Tony to eat something or get some sleep. (But I’m thirsty!) Tony whined back to the voice in his head. He edged out onto the branch, slowly moving toward the water inch by inch. The tree branches creaked under his weight, making the cat even more nervous, but Tony was stubborn and he wanted that drink. Finally, he reached a low branch hanging just over the water and lowered his head to drink. (Ah. Cool, refreshing, slightly muddy tasting but whatever.) The cat lapped and lapped until he was satisfied. Tony straightened and carefully turned, making his way back up the tree. 

Snap! Crack! Tony yowled as his backend fell into the water. (Shit! Shit, shit, shit!) His front claws dug into the tree branch in panic as his back legs flailed, splashing about in the stream. The cat’s heart hammered with fright and Tony hauled himself up with desperation. His claws caught at rough tree bark and Tony climbed up. Shaking at the close call, the feline followed the largest tree branch he could find to the opposite bank and fumbled himself to land. Back on solid ground, Tony glanced back at his now soaked lower half and scowled. (That was too close.) He flicked a limp leaf from his tail and started to lick his wet fur.

After doing the best he could with his fur, Tony continued on. He slowed to a walk, tired and hungry. A rabbit he startled into running looked like a good option for lunch the way things were going but it was gone before Tony could even take another step. The day slid into the afternoon hours and Tony’s paws were sore. He stopped and laid down in the twisted knurls of some tree roots to rest. (When I get home, I’m never walking anywhere again. I will construct some robots to carry me about on a chair everywhere, like some big fat sultan. I will have steak for breakfast and steak for dinner and a never ending fountain of water. No, scratch that. A never ending fountain of bourbon. ) Tony sighed. (I must have walked a trillion miles and found big fat nothing. I’m going to be in these woods forever!) The cat whined, licking his nose. (I don’t want to be forced to eat mice! I bet they taste yucky!)

There was a loud bang off in the distance, interrupting Tony’s mental ranting, and then something big started crashing through the trees. Tony scrunched himself into a little ball, falling silent. A deer came galloping through some tangled weeds. It suddenly collapsed to the ground a couple of feet from Tony’s hiding place, breathing hard like a bellows and bleeding from its flank. Terrified dark eyes rolled in the deer’s head as it snorted and struggled to stand. There was another loud bang and the deer slumped to its side, blood splattering on the ground. Two men in orange vests carrying rifles stomped through the leaves toward the deer and Tony closed his eyes, tucking his head under his paws. He did not want to be any part of this.

“Good shot, Charlie!” exclaimed one of the men.

“Yeah, not bad if I do say so myself. This deer will make for some good eating. Mam will like the fresh meat today.” The men shuffled around the deer. Tony heard the ringing sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath and then something heavy thumped to the ground practically on top of him. That was it for Tony’s nerves and he was up and running before his brain could complete a clear thought.

One of the men shouted in surprise and there was another loud bang. There was a puff of dirt next to Tony as he ran, heart pounding in fright. One of the hunters laughed loudly. “You startled by a little old pussycat, Robby?”

“Shut up!” Tony just kept running. The feral instinct of ‘get away’ thrummed through his blood. He leapt fallen branches and ducked under weeds, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the sticky feeling along his back leg. The feline barely noticed as he plunged into a wall of green and kept on running until a paw caught on a clod of soil and he tripped. Tony went ass over tea kettle and smacked into tall green stalks. He lay there panting into the dirt, aching all over his body. Tony didn’t want to move, didn’t want to deal with this. He’d already done the whole ‘lost in the middle of nowhere with no hope of rescue’ thing. It hadn’t been fun in the desert and it wasn’t any better in the middle of the woods.

Finally, Tony dredged up enough energy to lift his head. Orderly rows of green stalks towered over him in each direction. (A corn field. I’m in a corn field. How nice.) A hysterical chuckle echoed inside his head. Tony breathed deeply and dared to look down at himself. His shoulder throbbed from where the coyote had scratched him and now he’d gained a full body ache from his panicked rush through the woods and fall in the corn field. But what really worried him was the dark red blood on his back leg, shiny against his fur and with dust and dead leaves stuck to the area.

Tony carefully moved the leg and then climbed to his feet. Nothing screamed in pain and Tony rubbed the blood off on a corn stalk. It wasn’t his blood. It probably had come from – Tony swallowed painfully – the now dead deer. He cleaned off the area as best he could. He refused to lick it, no matter what his kitty hindbrain was saying. (Assholes.) He grumbled to himself. (I can’t believe that fucker actually shot at me.) Tony stretched, checking for any more pressing injuries besides bruises, and then considered his situation. (A corn field means a farm and a farm means people.) Tony looked up and down the rows of plants and set off in a tentative trot, sore from nose to tail. (I need to find people and have them call the Tower. Fuck, at this point all I need is a phone and I’ll damn well call myself. Jarvis can track it.)

The feline wove between corn stalks until he heard a loud rumbling. Tony cautiously continued in that direction until he caught sight of the huge harvester lumbering along the rows of vegetables. Behind the harvester was cleared field with sharp broken corn stalks, as treacherous as any minefield. (Nope. I think not.) Tony turned and continued on a parallel route against the cleared field. Eventually, it spat him out on a wide dirt road. To his right, Tony could see the tall trees of the forest rise up. To his left, there was a large building way off in the distance. He turned toward the building and made his way along the edge of the road.

Tony had to pause and rest half way there. He laid down in the shade of the corn stalks and resolutely did not lick himself, even though his skin was crawling with the need to bath. (I wonder if they make kitty aspirin.) Tony thought as he stretched his legs. (I feel like I’ve gone 3 rounds with Thor. Without the suit!) After his rest, Tony continued on the road until he reached the building. A tractor rumbled out of the doors of the big building and rolled down a pathway. Several huge machines sat like hulking monsters in the yard and Tony cautiously crossed, aware he was very squishable as a cat. The machines were all huge and green and Tony felt a pang as he thought about Bruce. (I hope he’s ok and didn’t damage my workshop too much. Pepper gets all frowny when I have to replace everything.)

There were several storage buildings in the yard and Tony could hear men shouting inside some of them. He rounded a shed and considered his options. What were the odds that a farm worker would take notice of a stray kitty cat? Very slim, by Tony’s estimates. (No good. I need somebody more likely to help me than kick me away.) Suddenly a strange smell caught Tony’s attention and his lips curled. (Oh! Yuck! What is that?) He sniffed at the corner of the shed and sneezed. That smelled foul. Tony shook his head. (I think I just burned the inside of my nose.) He didn’t know what had peed on that corner but instinct told him it was nothing good. Tony slipped down onto the road and continued on his way. (There has to be a town or something nearby.)

The blood from the deer had dried tacky on his leg and Tony scrapped more off against a handy corn stalk. A little ways down the road, the field turned from corn to low growing soybeans and suddenly Tony could see a house. Hope jumped up his throat. He made his way toward it as fast as he could. He crossed a wide green lawn and stopped to study the house. It was an unremarkable blue ranch house with white shutters, surrounded by fields and fields of green. Tony’s tail flicked. (How picturesque. I hate it. Give me a steel and glass sky scraper any day.)

The cat couldn’t see anybody in the front yard and the windows all had white curtains in them. He trotted around the side to check out the backyard. A long clothesline had white sheets and bright clothing hanging on them, flapping gently in the breeze. A small child sat playing in a sandbox, using a yellow shovel to fling sand into a blue bucket. (You have got to be kidding me! This can’t be real. It’s like a sappy magazine cover.) Tony sat and pondered his options again. He was just about to chance it with the little girl when movement by the clothesline caught his attention. A woman, late 20’s or so, was moving along the line hanging up clothing. Tony liked to say that she was wearing a gingham dress just to compete the scene correctly but the lady was wearing jeans and a faded graphic t-shirt. (I’m so disillusioned.)

Tony tried to smooth down his fur but it was a lost cause. The feline was annoying tatty looking and Tony knew it. He trotted out into the open and was instantly spotted by the kid. “Kitty!”

The woman jerked aside a sheet to look. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. The little girl was already up on her feet and climbing out of the sandbox. Tony paused and lay down in the grass, meowing pitifully. He tried to seem as friendly and nonthreatening as he could. (Come on. Poor widdle kitty here. I could use some help.) The lady scooped her daughter up into her arms, which Tony was grateful for because he did not feel like having his ears and tail pulled on while his whole body hurt. “Hold on, Abby. We don’t know if he’s friendly.”

(I’m friendly!) Tony got up and walked forward a little, meowing again. “Oh, he has on a collar. He must be somebody’s pet,” the woman observed. She sat the kid down on the porch step. “Stay here, Abby,” she ordered sternly. She then took a few cautious steps forward, clicking her tongue. “Here kitty. Come here, sweetie.” Tony approached her as cutely and harmless as he could, making a big show of smelling her fingers and then rubbing up against them, purring loudly. She petted over his head gently. “You look like you’ve had a rough time of it, puss.” (Lady, you have no idea!)

Tony was taken inside and, thankfully, little Abby was not allowed to pet him. (Thank all the gods.) The lady put him on a counter and took a good look at his collar. She scribbled down the phone number for the Tower and then got him some water and a can of tuna. Abby looked on enviously from the floor as Tony gobbled down his feast and the woman picked up a landline phone to make the call. Tony’s ears swiveled around as the welcome sound of Jarvis’ voice came over the phone. “Oh,” the lady said, confused, as Jarvis greeted her with the Tower’s name. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number. Thank you.” Tony watched in horror as she began to hang the phone up and swallowed quickly. He meowed loudly, hoping it was enough. Click went the phone into the cradle.

“Maybe I wrote it down wrong,” the woman muttered, looking at the little piece of paper. She took a step away when the phone rang. With a bemused look, she picked it up again. “Randall residence.” She looked over to Tony, surprised. “Why, yes. I did. Mmm. A black cat. Red collar. Uh huh. Well, he looks to be alright. A little worse for wear but in one piece.” (Barely!) The lady blinked and then shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Hold on.” She then held the hand piece out to Tony.

“Sir?” asked Jarvis, tinny and echoing out of the speaker. Tony meowed into the mouth piece. “I am pleased you are alright, Sir. I have informed the others of your location and they shall be headed out to get you forthwith.” Tony gave a grateful meow. “You’re welcome, Sir.” Tony pushed the phone away with a paw and the lady put the receiver back up to her ear.

“I must say Mr. Jarvis, you have a very intelligent cat.” Tony twitched his tail out of the reach of little Abby and looked smug. “The road?” she asked. “Well, it’s asphalt up until the farm entrance and then it’s all dirt. But it hasn’t rained in a little while. You shouldn’t have any trouble with your car.” Tony’s whiskers fluffed in amusement. He licked up the last of the tuna. “Mmm mm. Alright. See you soon. Bye.” She hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. “Strange,” she muttered. She then smiled at Tony and patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, Tony. Your family will be here to pick you up soon.”

Tony ducked his head a little. (Family huh? Well, I guess that’s as right as anything.) He stayed up on the counter for the next hour, engaged in a stare down with Abby, who really wanted the kitty apparently. The inside of the cat’s ears tickled and he shook his head. It took him a minute to recognize what was happening and by then the whole house was shaking. Tony leapt from the counter, although he regretted that when he thumped to the floor and all his bruises throbbed, and raced across the house to the front door. (Let me out! I’m in here! Steve! You better have brought food, damn it!) He yowled, dancing on his back legs while pawing at the doorknob.

Tony ducked back when the lady approached and was out the door the second she wrenched it open. “What the hell is going on here!?” The quinjet was powering down on the dirt road, just wide enough to accommodate the flying machine. Tony raced toward it as fast as his four legs could carry him.

The back plank folded down and Steve was jumping off it before it even touched the ground, Bruce hot on his heels. “Tony!” called the blond, running up the front walkway toward the house. Tony put on a burst of speed and flung himself up into Steve’s arms. “Whoa! Are you ok? Are you hurt?” Steve demanded, curling his arms around Tony. The feline rubbed the top of his head against Steve’s chin and purred. Tony was sore and dirty and absolutely exhausted and was never so happy to see the man as right then.

Natasha jogged off the quinjet and joined the huddle. The plane powered down and Clint came out and soon all four were surrounding Tony. “I am pleased you are alright, kотёнок,” said Natasha, reaching over Steve’s elbow to pat the cat’s head.

“You’re filthy!” exclaimed Clint. He had claimed a patch on Tony’s back and was just resting his hand there. (Yeah, well, if you’d spent the last 48 hours in the wilderness I suspect you’d look a little out of sorts too!) Tony chittered at him in annoyance.

“You’re not injured anywhere, are you?” asked Bruce, inspecting a paw. The skin around his eyes was flushed slightly green. Strictly speaking, he was, but Tony shook his head anyway. It was nothing a little rest wouldn’t cure and they didn’t need the Big Guy coming out here.

“We were so worried,” Steve said, running his hand down Tony’s side. “I can’t believe Loki sent you to Tennessee!” Tony’s ears flicked. (Tennessee? Really? Well, I guess that explains the corn and the Bambi murderers. Christ, I really am in the middle of nowhere!)

“Holy shit,” said the lady’s voice flatly from the walkway.

“Mommy said a bad word!” screamed the kid joyfully.

“Not now, Abby,” snapped her mother, still staring at the people crowded on her front lawn. A truck came rumbling from the direction of the barn and machinery yard, throwing dust up behind it.

“Oh dear,” muttered Bruce. “I hope we didn’t squash anything when we landed.”

“Hey! My parking is impeccable!” exclaimed Clint, insulted.

“It’s just my husband,” muttered the woman. “Oh my god. Are you really the Avengers or am I hallucinating?”

“Do you normally hallucinate?” Natasha asked seriously.

“Widow,” Steve chided, falling back on their habit of codenames even though they weren’t in costume.

The truck skidded to a stop and a man jumped out, running toward them without bothering to close the vehicle door. An unhappy ping-ping-ping sound began. “Tracy, what the hell? Who are you fuckers?” yelled the man.

“Bad word,” giggled Abby.

Her mother dashed forward and caught his arm. “Sam, stop! Cool it! It’s the Avengers!”

The man looked wildly around their front yard. “It’s not aliens again, is it? I’ve only got my hunting rifle but I’m a fair shot. We can give ‘em hell!” Clint mumbled something and Tony buried his nose in Steve’s elbow to snicker.

“Sam, aliens are not going to invade Tennessee! I wish you’d stop talking to old man Davis. You’re catching his crazy.” Tracy smiled apologetically at the Avengers. “Their cat wandered into our yard, that’s all. They just came to collect him.”

“Kitty!” howled Abby angrily. Tony made sure his tail was out of grabbing distance.

“Since when do superheroes have a pet cat?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“Since a week ago,” Natasha replied calmly.

Steve stepped forward and wiggled a hand out from under Tony. “Listen, Mr. ?”

“Randall. Sam Randall.” He quickly pulled off his heavy work glove and gave Steve’s hand a hardy shake. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Randall,” Steve replied as their handshake jiggled Tony’s backend uncomfortably. (Whoa! Earthquake!) “There was an altercation with one of our enemies. We didn’t know where our cat ended up and are very grateful you found him safe and sound.” (Well, I wouldn’t go that far.) Tony thought to himself, easing his aching shoulder into a new position.

“He pretty much found us by himself,” Tracey said, corralling her daughter away from an uneasy looking Bruce. “I just operated the phone.” (For which I will be eternally grateful. As soon as I get my thumbs back, you are going to find yourself hip deep in gifted farming equipment. All of it Stark Industries manufactured, of course.)

Tony yawned big and wide and the conversation wrapped up. Steve and Bruce thanked the Randall family again. Clint walked around the quinjet just to make sure he hadn’t actually squashed anything but as usual his landing had been perfect and the plane was sitting squarely on dirt road. They declined taking a picture on count of not being in uniform and piled into the quinjet. Natasha and Clint sat in the pilot chairs and ran through their checks while Steve and Bruce sat behind them. “Should we try and secure Tony somehow?” asked Steve worriedly.

“There isn’t exactly animal approved accommodations on here,” Natasha replied, adjusting her headset.

“Just hold him on your lap, Steve. It will be fine,” Bruce suggested. He sounded tired and rubbed at his eyes. He and Natasha had been up most of the last two days searching for Tony with Jarvis and Bruce showed his exhaustion in a way the redheaded spy never would.

Steve made an unhappy sound but sat in a chair and carefully strapped himself in while Tony sprawled on his lap. He then cupped his arms around the feline and pressed Tony against his stomach. The cat wiggled around until he found the most comfortable position for his bruises and laid his chin on Steve’s wrist. “Everybody good to go?” Clint called out.

Steve looked down. “Ready, Tony?” he asked. Tony meowed, finally able to relax now that they were on their way home. “I think so. Let’s get back to New York before somebody decides to attack it in our absence.”

Everybody flinched. “Now you’ve done it, Steve. Jinx us before we even get off the ground,” Natasha complained. Clint and Bruce chuckled. The quinjet rose smoothly into the air and turned gracefully, just as she had been designed. Tony closed his eyes with sigh and was soon asleep. Steve adjusted his hold and kept his attention on the feline.

It took them a little under an hour and a half to reach New York and that was because the Avengers quinjet had priority over commercial planes when in the air and the quinjet easily outpaced any jumbo jet. Hill radioed in and directed them to land in a field just west of Newark, which Tony slept through. They then transferred to a helicopter, which woke Tony up. (Gugh? Are we home yet?) Tony looked groggily around as Steve stood and walked out of the quinjet. “It’s ok, Tony. We’re just going to stop by SHIELD Headquarters and get you checked out,” soothed Steve. Tony’s ears flattened. (Ugh. Do we have to?)

The helicopter took them to the top of the Times Square building and Tony squished himself down into Steve’s arms as they crossed the roof and descended the stairs to the medical level. Tony was glaring and growling softly by the time they reached the med bay and no amount of soothing from Steve would calm him. “Hey, guys. What’s up?” Tony perked up and Steve smiled in relief. (Favorite person!)

“I was hoping we’d find you here, Miss Burkhart,” said Bruce.

“You didn’t get in any trouble from last time, right?” asked Clint.

“Nope,” said Patricia with a smile. She lifted her tag from her scrub shirt and flashed it at them. “I got a promotion. You’re looking at the new head nurse. Dr. Zengel was fired and Tammy and Kristen were moved to different locations that I’m not allowed to know exist or something equally ominous sounding. I forget how Agent Sitwell put it exactly.” (Good. I hope they dropped him into the middle of shark invested waters from the helicarrier.)

Clint chuckled. “That sounds about right.”

“Do you guys need medical attention or are you here to visit?” asked the nurse.

Steve stepped forward and Tony meowed. Patricia’s gaze dropped to him and she frowned. “We need you to look over Tony, ma’am,” said the blond. “He’s had a bit of an adventure by himself. We think he’d been in a wooded area for the last two days.”

“Tennessee,” Natasha said, as if insulted.

“Put him on a table and I’ll take a look.” Gently, Steve put Tony on top of a metal table while Patricia grabbed a small flashlight and some gloves. “First things first; Mr. Stark, are you injured?” she asked. Tony gave a pitiful meow and slowly lay down on the table, moving like an old man. “Diane, get me the heating pad,” Patricia called. She reached up and turned on the overhead light. Another nurse with short blond hair brought over the pad and laid it down on the table. Patricia gently moved Tony over to the pad while Diane plugged it in. “I take it you are sore?” Patricia asked. Tony nodded, grateful as the pad began to heat up. (That is the understatement of the year.) “Get me some cotton swabs, a pair of tweezers, and a magnifier, please,” Patricia asked her fellow nurse.

The instruments of torture were laid out. Steve stood at the head of the table, shifting nervously. Clint and Natasha had retreated to some chairs out of the way and were watching from a distance. Bruce had taken a few steps back to allow the nurses room to work. Patricia began to comb through Tony’s black fur. “No broken bones, I take it?” Tony shook his head, lethargic against the warm heating pad. “Looks like something got your shoulder?” Patricia asked. Tony nodded, yawning. “Doesn’t look too bad. Just some scratches.” She checked his head and down along his sides before reaching his back legs. Red flecks came off on her gloves. “Neener. I may need a suture kit and some bandages,” Patricia announced. Diane stepped away to gather the materials requested. Steve began to wring his hands, a deep line appearing between his brows as he frowned.

Tony kicked the leg the deer blood had splattered on out of her grasp and stretched it, toes spread wide to show it wasn’t injured. Patricia gently parted the fur and swiped at it with a wet cotton ball. She snorted. “Never mind. This blood isn’t yours, is it Mr. Stark?” Tony shook his head, meowing and patting the nurse’s hand with a paw.

“Mighty hunter,” teased Clint. Tony huffed. (I’ll just let you keep thinking that, bird boy.)

Patricia cleaned off his leg, collecting a little heap of pink smeared gauze squares. “Roll over for me?” she asked. Tony groaned, heaving himself over onto his other side like it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Patricia started combing through his fur again. “Poor Mr. Stark. You’re one big bruise.” Tony meowed pitifully. “Poor kitty,” Patricia soothed. “Although, ugh,” she picked up a pair of tweezers, “I’m afraid you are going to need a bath with a flea and tick shampoo. Anybody got any matches?” Patricia held up the squirming body of a tick with the tweezers.

Clint jumped up and dug in his pocket. “I got this,” he said, taking the tweezers and blood sucking insect over to the sink.

Tony’s golden eyes widened. (That was on me?!) He leaned up and franticly licked at the place Patricia had plucked the tick from. (Oh my god! I have parasites on me! I am unclean!) The nurses stared as the cat flailed around on the heating pad with bemusement. (I want to shed my skin! Ugh!) Suddenly his flesh just seemed to be crawling and he lifted his back leg to scratch hysterically at his neck. (Quick! Somebody boil some water!)

Diane took a big step back from the table as Tony yowled. “Is this normal behavior for him?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Even when he is a human Tony tends to be high strung,” replied Bruce.

Steve reached forward and rested a hand on Tony’s back. “It’s ok, Tony,” he soothed. “We’ll give you a bath as soon as we’re home and make sure there are no more ticks on you.” The feline wailed and slumped onto the heating pad.

Patricia snickered. “It’s the only one I’ve found, Mr. Stark. If you’ve been running around the wilderness for the last two days, I’d say you’re doing pretty well. I’ll check the rest of you over and then you and the others can head out.” Tony sighed dramatically and waved a paw. (Just get on with it.) Patricia giggled again and went back to combing through his fur. She was carefully checking under his front leg when she grimaced and handed another pair of tweezers to Clint, little black bug squirming on the end. Tony moaned. (Oh god. I’m going to die. I’m going to end up a shriveled up husk devoid of blood.)

“Burn! Burn, little bug!” hissed Clint from the sink.

“Be weird later, Clint. We’re in public,” scolded Natasha in a bored tone of voice. The archer giggled softly.

“You’re ok, Tony. I promise,” Steve muttered, petting along the cat’s side. Tony made a pitiful sound. (Go on without me. I’m not going to make it.)

Patricia wiggled a cotton swab between Tony’s toes and dug out a clump of dirt. “All done!” she announced brightly. “You’re in one piece, Mr. Stark.” She peeled off her gloves and rubbed under the cat’s chin. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell everyone that he’s one big bruise under that fur.” Tony meowed, his golden eyes squinting, and purred. “He’s got some scratches from something on his left shoulder and you’ll need to handle him gently for a while but otherwise he’s okay. I’d take him home, bath him, groom him, and he should be right as rain with some food and rest. Mr. Stark is lucky. He has 8 lives left.” Tony chittered, lips curling. (Lady, I have a good fewer than 8 lives left. People try to kill me a lot.)

“I’m so glad,” Steve announced, gently picking Tony up. The cat stuck a claw into the heating pad and dragged it along. (No! My warm!)

Patricia and Bruce laughed. “Take it with you,” the nurse said. “The heat probably feels good against his bruises.” She unplugged it and Steve cradled cat and heating pad in his arms. Tony relaxed, kneading against Steve’s wrist and purring. The blond looked bemused.

Clint came back over from the sink. “We ready to go?”

“I believe we are set,” replied Bruce. “If that is all, Nurse Burkhart?”

Patricia flapped a hand at them and grinned. “Go. Shoo. You’re cluttering up my medical bay.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Burkhart,” Steve said earnestly as Natasha herded him toward the door. Tony spread his toes in the nurse’s direction, a kind of lazy cat wave goodbye.

“You’re welcome, Captain. Have a good evening.”


	14. FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody in the Marvel universe is fair game, X-Men and other superheroes included.

The Avengers were walking down the hallways of SHIELD Headquarters, doing the Big Damn Hero strut as Clint and Tony liked to call it. Tony flopped himself across Steve’s forearms, the warmth from the heating pad soothing his shoulder. The coyote scratches still stung if he moved the wrong way. (God, if I never see another woodland forest in my life, it will be too soon. Good thing is, it looks like I won’t have to build a bunch of robots to carry me everywhere. I’ll just have Steve do it!) The feline kneaded against Steve’s bicep and purred. The blond smiled goofily down at Tony and the cat squinted golden eyes back in pleasure. (The only thing that could make this better is a plate of chicken pâté.)

“Good evening, Director,” Natasha said sweetly from the front of the group as they rounded a corner. Tony’s head slumped down with a groan. (You have got to be kidding me!)

“Romanoff,” Fury replied blandly, his one eye drifting across them and settling on the cat Steve held. He had probably been lying in wait for them in the hallway, like some sort of leather coated trap spider.

“We thought you were still in the helicarrier,” grumbled Clint. “What are you doing dirt side?”

“I am Director of SHIELD, Barton. When 68% of my available agents suddenly get called out to search for a stray kitty cat, I get informed,” he replied, tone as dry as dust. Fury was staring at Tony and the feline growled softly, lips curling slightly. Fury remained unimpressed.

“Sorry about that, sir,” interjected Steve, shifting his hands so that the heating pad bunched up and hid Tony. “The situation with Loki is proving more problematic than expected.”

“That is an understatement, Captain,” Fury replied, annoyance creeping into his tone. He breathed deeply in and out through his nose, as if preparing for a fight. “Avengers, I hereby order you to cease your pursuit of Loki. After your fight in the park the day before, you’ve garnered too much public attention. You lot running around the city like you have the last week is making the WSC anxious.”

“The WSC can go fuck themselves!” Clint snapped. “You can’t tell us to just stop looking for Loki. We need him to turn Tony back into a human and we can’t just let the fucker run loose in the city.”

Natasha gave a tiny frown, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. “We were under the impression that containing Loki was of the upmost importance. The Avengers had standing orders to engage Loki and attempt to capture him since he broke out of the Asgardian jail. Why have the WSC rescinded these orders?”

“The WSC don’t like having egg on their face,” Fury grumbled. Bruce snorted and then folded his arms and stared back when Fury glared at him. “Those that know the WSC ordered the bombing of New York during the Chitauri invasion are unhappy with the council and SHIELD’s continued inability to contain Loki has the sharks circling. Blood is in the water, as far as they’re concerned, and having you idiots bumbling around the city after Loki is not helping matters.”

“So we’re just going to let Loki go and trap Tony as a cat? That’s crap!” Clint complained. Tony shrank down in Steve’s arms, ears flattening to his head. The feline gave a soft, distressed meow. (I don’t want to be a cat forever…)

Steve crooked a finger over the heating pad and rubbed at Tony’s cheek. Tony looked up and the blond gave him a reassuring smile. “We’re going to do everything we can to get Tony turned back into a human,” Steve said firmly. Fury bristled as Clint gave him a smug smirk. “But we will no longer be searching the city for Loki,” the super soldier continued in a tone that allowed no argument. Natasha and Clint both turned to look back at Steve, various degrees of surprise of their faces. He sighed and shook his head. “We can’t risk Loki retaliating like this again. He has shown us that he can enter the Tower anytime he wants and we have little ability to stop him. I won’t have him making a second attempt and doing something worse than just sending Tony to Tennessee.”

“I’m glad to see at least one of you has some sense,” praised Fury gruffly.

Steve’s answering smile was sharp edged. “This is why we will be contacting other people with magical abilities for help in turning Tony back into a human. Wanda or her teacher Agatha Harkness might know what to do and I’m sure Professor Xavier would do what he could to help Tony if we asked him. I know Billy is still learning to control his powers but maybe he knows some way to turn Tony back into a human. Or perhaps Dr. Strange is available.” Tony sighed, pressing his nose to the heating pad. (Ugh. Not that asshole.)

Clint barked a laugh in response to Steve’s announcement. “Strange hates SHIELD.”

“But not us,” Natasha mused. “If we ask politely for his help, Strange could perhaps bring himself to aid us.”

“So, Steve does all the talking then,” Bruce said wryly. “I doubt Wanda or her teacher will answer a call from us. Last I heard they were having problems controlling Wanda’s chaos magic and had gone into hiding.”

“I don’t care what you do,” snapped Fury. “Call up the Wizard of Oz, for all I give a shit. Just stay out of public and be quiet about it. I hate wasting my day taking angry calls from the WSC. I’ve got better things to do than play babysitter.” He turned sharply on his heel and strode away.

Clint watched, a thoughtful look on his face. “I want a long swishy coat,” he said plaintively when Fury disappeared down another hallway. “Wouldn’t I look awesome with a long swishy coat?” the archer asked Natasha.

“No,” Natasha replied blandly, heading toward the elevator.

“You’re no fun,” muttered Clint as they arranged themselves in the carriage. They rode the elevator down to the garage and commandeered one of the many nondescript black SUV’s there. Clint and Natasha sat up front with Clint driving while Steve and Bruce sat in the middle seats. Steve, in a complete reverse of how he acted during their first trip home in a car, laid the heating pad and Tony in his lap. The feline shifted around until he was comfortable in the cradle of Steve arms.

“Alright, Tony?” Steve asked softly. Tony chirped lazily at him. (I’m doing just fine. You are surprisingly comfy, Steve-o.)

Clint pulled out of the garage while Natasha tapped on her cellphone. “Do we need to make a pit stop at a pet store?” the archer asked as he guided the SUV through traffic.

Natasha shook her head. “Jarvis says he ordered pet shampoo with the rest of the cat supplies a week ago. We should be good.”

Bruce reached over and gently grabbed Tony’s back paw, giving the cat’s leg a playful tug. “You going to give us any problems with your bath, Tony? Cat’s don’t like water, you know.” Tony thumped his forearm hard with his tail. (Not actually a cat here, Brucie. I promise not to shred anybody with my claws.)

They reached the Tower without hindrance and piled out of the SUV. Clint left the keys on the driver’s seat where a SHIELD lackey would come get the car from the Tower’s garage later. They rode the elevator up to the common floor. “Tony, do you want to eat first or get started on your bath?” asked Steve. (Bath!) Tony yowled and patted at the edge of the heating pad. (I want to be clean. I still feel like my skin is crawling.)

A bottle of pet shampoo was dug out of the cat supplies and they discussed the logistics of giving Tony a bath. “I’d go for the kitchen sink,” said Natasha, setting a stack of towels on the kitchen island. “It has a spray hose and would be easier than us kneeling around a tub.”

“Good point,” Steve mused. Bruce took away the heating pad, now barely warm, and Clint put a rubber mat into the bottom of the sink. Steve carefully lowered Tony into the sink bowl, watching the cat carefully. Natasha unclipped the collar with the arc reactor tag and set it aside. Tony sat calmly in the sink, the tip of his tail twitching. (Well? What are you waiting for? Bath me, slaves.)

Clint’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking something insulting, aren’t you? I know that look. Guys, I think we’re being sassed!” Tony flashed his fangs in a kitty smile. Steve rolled his eyes and turned on the water. They poured water over Tony’s fur, wetting him down. (Make sure to check for ticks and fleas and any other nasty little bugs!) Tony meowed loudly as Steve gently soaped him up with the pet shampoo, careful of his shoulder and other bruises.

They used the spray hose to wash the suds away. “There,” said Steve happily. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He reached for the soaking cat to lift him out of the sink but Tony shrank away.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bruce. Tony meowed, looking three sizes smaller and pitifully bedraggled with his wet fur, and reached out to swipe the pet shampoo bottle into the sink. (Again! I want to be extra clean. Make sure to kill all the bugs!)

“I believe Sir is asking you to repeat the process for extra good measure,” Jarvis supplied.

“Who knew you were such a germaphobe?” complained Clint as Steve turned the water back on and Natasha squeezed more shampoo into the palm of her hand.

“Ticks can transmit Lyme disease to cats, Clint,” scolded Bruce as Tony sat in a mound of bubbles in the sink. “I’m sure Tony will just feel better with two washes.” Natasha scooped a beehive of suds on top of Tony’s head with a chuckle. Then they rinsed Tony off again, the cat allowing Steve to pick up his paws and move him about.

Natasha spread a towel over her arms and Steve was able to transfer the dripping cat from the sink to the towel. Natasha wrapped Tony up and rubbed briskly. She then pulled away the damp towel and Bruce moved in with a dry one, getting as much water as they could. Natasha then appeared with a blow dryer. She pointed the nozzle at Tony. “Are you going to have any problems with this?” she asked. Tony shook his head, damp fur sticking up in clumps from the rub down. Natasha turned on the blow dryer. It was loud and Tony flattened his ears as Natasha swished the dryer over him but he stayed still for the 20 minutes it took to dry his coat.

(I feel all staticy.) Tony sneezed and shook his head, sitting on the kitchen island. (And floofy.) His fur was poofed up and standing on end, making Tony look round and overly fluffy. Clint giggled, passing his hand over Tony’s back. Little sparks flew between and Tony swiped at him with a paw. (Stop that! It tickles!) “Brush?” asked Natasha, looking at Steve.

Steve nodded decisively. “Brush,” he repeated. They got the ottoman out and Bruce covered it with another towel. Steve picked Tony up and brought him into the living room. They got out the combs and brushes and worked through Tony’s fur patch by patch, unsnarling tangles and checking for anymore unwanted passengers. Finally, Tony was clean and groomed. He rolled to his feet and Natasha bundled up the used towels to shove them down the laundry chute.

Tony gave himself a few courtesy licks but he felt immensely better. His fur was once again sleek and shiny. Clint got the collar and put it back around Tony’s neck. “I think it’s best if we leave that on for now,” the archer said. Tony flicked his tail in agreement. (That’s ok. I’ve become rather fond of it.)

Bruce flopped back into an armchair. “What a day! I’m pooped,” he complained.

“Shall I order dinner in?” asked Jarvis solicitously.

“I’m tired of pizza. Can we get burgers delivered?” requested Natasha.

“Of course, Miss Romanoff. Shall I order everyone’s usual?”

“That sounds good, Jarvis. Thanks,” Steve said. Tony jumped off the ottoman so it could be wheeled back into the library. The cat lay down next to Steve’s leg and the blond lowered a hand to scratch around Tony’s ears. (Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.) The feline began to purr loudly, eyes falling half closed. “Jarvis, do we have Dr. Strange’s phone number?” Steve asked after several minutes of the group dozing on the couch and chairs.

“We have the number Dr. Strange provided to SHIELD to get in contact with him, yes.”

“Call it, please.” Tony twitched his ears and he sighed. (I’m never going to hear the end of it from Strange. Turned into a kitty cat. How humiliating.) The call to Strange rang to voicemail and a polite command to leave a message. 

“The Sorcerer Supreme has voicemail?” Clint muttered as Steve was leaving a request for Strange to get back to them.

“He may not even be in this dimension,” Natasha said as Jarvis hung up. “Strange is notorious for disappearing. It drives the agents tasked with keeping track of him up the wall with frustration.”

“We’ll have to wait for Dr. Strange to respond,” Steve replied. They called the number they had for Wanda after that but it had been disconnected. Next they called the school and had a short conversation with Professor Xavier. Charles promised he’d contact Billy, aka Wiccan, and see if he could help or see if another mutant might have powers that could turn Tony back into a human. Logan laughed in the background during the whole phone call.

Steve sighed in frustration as they ended the call with Charles. He picked Tony up from his sprawl on the cushion and settled the cat into his lap, stroking along his side. (Whoa! Somebody is getting handsy.) Tony curled up nose to tail, feeling exhausted. The steady movement of Steve’s hand along his ribs was calming and the cat began to drift. 

Bruce sighed and slid down low in the armchair he was sitting in. “Jarvis, pull up the latest episode of Game of Thrones or something,” he requested.

The big TV screen turned on and they turned their attention to it. Soon, Natasha and Clint were asleep, or pretending to be asleep, and Steve’s gaze was directed down at his lap. Tony twitched in his sleep, dreaming or uneasy, and Steve curled his other arm up around his back. “Did anyone tell Miss Potts that we found Tony?” Steve muttered.

“I took the liberty of keeping Miss Potts appraised of the situation. She expressed her relief that Sir was once again safe,” replied Jarvis.

“Isn’t she coming over to see him?” asked Steve, frowning.

“Miss Potts did not express any plans to visit the Tower and has already returned to her own apartment for the night.”

Bruce sighed quietly, not paying the TV much attention either. “Pepper has enough to think about as it is. I think it’s best if we give her some space.” Steve nodded and kept petting Tony.

The food came and they roused themselves enough to shuffle into the kitchen and eat. Burgers and fries were handed around. Clint and Bruce shared the onion rings. Natasha added more ketchup to her turkey burger and handed out a couple of beers from the fridge. It had been that type of day. Steve put together a plate of salmon cat food and joined everyone at the kitchen island. They ate in silence, their melancholy born of half tiredness and half discouragement. A few bites of hamburger and fries were offered to Tony and Steve couldn’t even bring himself to frown in disapproval.

After that, they could barely keep their eyes open. They settled back in the living room and unenthusiastically watched the news, which contained more speculation about the fight in the park between Loki and Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye. Bruce groaned as one reporter hypothesized that the Hulk was keeping Tony prisoner in the Tower or something equally asinine and based solely only the fact that both had been unseen by the public for the last week. “If the words ‘torrid love affair’ are used, I will destroy the TV,” muttered Clint, eyes closed and sprawled on one end of the couch. Tony flicked an ear from Steve’s lap, where the blond had pulled the cat to as soon as they were on the couch. (I really prefer you didn’t.)

When the news had ended, Natasha gave a delicate yawn and stood from the chair she was curled in. She walked over to the couch and wiggled a finger under Tony’s chin to rub. “Bedtime, kотёнок,” Natasha said softly as Tony squinted golden eyes up at her in pleasure. “Do you want to sleep with me or stay with Steve?”

Steve blushed and began to remove his arms from where he was cradling the cat in his lap. “He’s used to sleeping with you, Nat,” he said graciously. Tony dug his claws into Steve’s thigh and the blond paused. (I think I’m fine where I am, Natasha.) Tony chirped up at the redhead and then snuggled down into the crook of Steve’s arm. Steve looked a little nonplused but also slightly pleased.

Natasha chuckled quietly. “I believe Tony has made his choice of bed partners for the night clear. Goodnight, everybody.” She turned away and flicked Clint in the ear. The archer jerked awake with a loud snort, blinking around the dim living room. “Bed, Clint. Your back won’t thank you if you sleep on the couch,” Natasha ordered. Clint hauled himself up and followed Natasha to the elevator with a drowsy farewell.

“I guess I better head that way too,” announced Bruce, standing and stretching. “I didn’t get any sleep last night looking for Tony and the Other Guy gets extra grumpy if I don’t get at least 4 hours of shut eye.” Bruce ran a hand lightly down Tony’s shoulder, thankfully not the one that had been scratched by the coyote, and then gently tapped his paw with one finger. “Night, you two,” he said, wandering toward the elevator.

“Goodnight, Bruce. See you in the morning,” Steve answered. Tony chittered after his science bro and then relaxed back onto Steve’s lap. The super soldier ran hotter than a normal human by a few degrees and right then the only thing Tony wanted was to feel warm and safe. (This is nice. A little lumpy but nice.) “You really want to sleep in my bed tonight, Tony? You’ve been sleeping with Natasha for the last few nights,” Steve muttered. Tony sighed and used his special cat powers to rest more heavily on top of Steve’s legs. The blond smiled and stood, much to Tony’s annoyance.

Steve cradled Tony carefully as they rode the elevator up to Steve’s floor. Tony looked around the apartment with sleepy interest as Steve brought them to his bedroom. The feline knew what each apartment looked like, he’d designed them after all, but it was always interesting to see how his teammates had made the spaces their own. The bedspread was a dark blue and Tony oiled himself out of Steve’s arms to jump onto it. (Oooh! 100% pure cotton. Snazzy. I didn’t think you’d splurge on your bedding, Cap.) Tony tiptoed up the bed and sniffed at the pillows neatly resting against the dark wooden headboard.

Steve watched the cat anxiously, as if waiting for Tony to pass judgment on the sleeping arrangements. The pillow on the left smelled heavily of Steve, the leather of his costume and the spicy scent of that old fashioned shaving foam he persisted in using. The pillow on the right smelled less so and Tony began to knead it, punching it into an acceptable shape and then curling up on it. (Well? What are you waiting for? Bedtime! Climb on in.) The feline meowed loudly at Steve.

Steve smiled. “I’m glad you’re comfortable,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. He slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change. (Boo! Spoilsport! Too shy to change in front of the kitty?) Tony chittered from his chosen pillow. (Like I’ve never seen you in your birthday suit.) There was more than one after mission shower in the SHILED locker room where they were too tired and sore to care about modesty. Tony yawned, fangs flashing in the lamplight. He twitched an ear and waved a paw.

“The Tower is secure, Sir. All Avengers are accounted for and the workshop has been locked down,” Jarvis replied quietly. Tony gave a nod and flopped down onto his pillow, exhausted despite napping in Steve’s lap for most of the evening. His whole body, from nose to tip of the tail, felt like lead.

Steve came out of the bathroom wearing boxers and a t-shirt and climbed into his side of the bed. He reached over and gently stroked Tony’s flank. “Goodnight, Tony,” he said softly. “Sleep well.” Tony murred at him, barely any sound at all.

They settled down for a peaceful night’s sleep but because Tony Stark had shitty luck, he of course had a nightmare. He knew it was a nightmare even as the darkness closed in on him, little pin pricks of starlight glowing dully against the hulls of the alien armada. The coyote barked and howled in his ears. The noise was ridiculous because he’d been able to hear fuck all in the vacuum of space on the other side of the portal; except for his own pounding heartbeat and erratic breathing. That he had heard just fine as it stuttered and slowed. Now Tony’s lovely subconscious was throwing together the darkness of space with the darkness of the hole in the woods and supplying a wonderful soundtrack of animal calls and explosions.

“…ony? Tony!?” A hand landed on Tony’s side and he jerked awake. He wasn’t proud of what he did next. The feline sank fangs and claws into vulnerable skin, blood blooming over his tongue. “Ow! Tony, stop!” The hand jerked away and shook him off. Tony rolled off the pillow, growling and snarling, and the lights came on. Tony froze. His fur was puffed up in fright and he looked around the bedroom in confusion. He panted and blinked, trying to get his bearings. “Tony? Are you ok?”

Tony turned his head and his ears drooped. Steve sat up in bed and his right hand was bleeding from several cuts and bites. (Oh god, I hurt you. I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to.) The cat settled more firmly on the bed, attempting to smooth down his fur and calm himself. Tony’s tail still lashing from side to side and he was having a hard time getting his claws to relax. (Is it bad? Should we call Bruce?) Steve’s worried face broke into a forgiving smile. “There you are. Awake now?” He reached out fearlessly with his uninjured hand and Tony pushed his head up into Steve’s palm, meowing sorrowfully.

“Nightmare?” Steve asked, petting softly between Tony’s ears. The feline looked away, embarrassed. “It looked like a bad one. Are you ok?” Tony meowed and stood, walking up the bed to inspect Steve’s bleeding hand. He delicately licked one finger. Steve smiled sheepishly down at the injury. “Yeah, you got me good. I should have known better than to try and wake you up like that.” (I wish you weren’t so blasé about this. I can’t believe I hurt you. I’m so sorry.) Tony gave another apologetic lick and Steve chuckled. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll just go wash these and they’ll be gone by morning. Benefits of the super soldier serum.” Steve slipped from the bed and walked into the bathroom.

Tony remained on the bed, licking his claws and lips. He could still taste blood on them and grew increasingly morose. (A nightmare is no excuse. This is much worse than just my tossing and turning keeping Pepper awake. We’re lucky I didn’t get his face.) Steve came back into the bedroom to find a miserable black cat waiting for him. “All better,” the blond said brightly, flashing his cleaned hand. He climbed back into the bed but Tony shrank away. The cat jumped from the bed and crossed the room to leap up on a chair, pointedly curling up on the seat even though it was cold and lonely by himself.

Steve pressed his lips together and climbed back out of bed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” He marched over to the chair, scooped Tony up, and marched right back to bed with the cat. Steve dropped the cat back on his pillow with a protesting howl. “I know you’re sorry, Tony, and I know you didn’t mean to bite or claw me but I’m not going to let you banish yourself to sleep alone. It was an accident. You had a nightmare. It’s understandable. It’s not your fault, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” Steve wrestled the sheets back into order and flopped back against his pillow with finality. “So, let’s just go back to sleep. Jarvis, light’s please.” The lights in the bedroom slowly dimmed until the room was dark.

Tony licked his nose, undecided, and slowly settled back down on the pillow. He watched Steve’s tightly closed eyes, fake and forced, until they eased and the blond fell into true sleep. The cat then tiptoed down to the end of the bed and curled up there. At least if he had another nightmare, he was less likely to disturb Steve or end up hurting him again. Tony closed his eyes and fell into a light, wary sleep.


	15. FIFTEEN

When Tony awoke in the morning, he found he had migrated up the bed. The feline held still as Steve breathed gently against the back of his head, wondering how he’d gotten from the end of the bed to curled up in the crook of Steve’s shoulder. This was highly embarrassing. Tony shifted slowly. If he moved carefully there might be a chance that the cat could remove himself without waking the blond. 

Alas, no such luck. Steve breathed in deeply and opened blue eyes, staring with confusion at Tony’s furry face only a few inches away from his nose. “Tony?” he asked in bewilderment. Tony meowed a greeting at him and then calmly got up. The cat walked to the other side of the bed and began to groom his whiskers, acting as nonchalant as if sleeping practically on someone’s face was perfectly normal.

Steve sat up with a groan. “If I thought you were confusing as a person, it’s nothing compared to how you are as a cat,” he grumbled. (Oi!) Tony yowled in protest. (I am not confusing. I am an open book. My needs are simple. Right now they include breakfast and regaining my thumbs.) Steve yawned and Tony scowled, feeling ignored. (I’d also really like to speak English again! Christ…)

“Captain, Doctor Banner is wondering if you and Sir are going to come down for breakfast. He is making waffles,” announced Jarvis. (Oh! Waffles. I want blueberry with mine.)

Steve smiled as Tony chittered excitedly. “Tell Bruce we’ll be down in a bit and we’d love some waffles.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Steve pushed off the blanket and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower real quick,” he said, patting Tony on the head as he walked past. Tony sighed and spent the time waiting doing a series of stretches to work the kinks from sleeping out of his sore muscles and taking a small peek around the apartment. The second bedroom, which Tony had made sure faced south, was a mess of paint and art supplies. A canvas set up on an easel had streaks of grays and blues so dark they were almost black and splotches of bright yellow color. Tony cocked his head at it, unable to see what it was. (I didn’t know Steve was into impressionist shit.)

A row of finished paintings were leaning against the lower half of the windows and Tony walked along them. Each had messy swirls and splashes of bright colors, frantic and full of energy. They showed a painter full of frustration and impatience. Tony paused in front of a canvas with red and orange and could see a desert landscape, the sand swept up into dunes and the rust color of huge rocks thrust up into the sky. The next painting was a riot of green, tall pine trees heavy with globs of paint. Tony looked back at the canvas on the easel and could now pick out the beginnings of the city skyline at night.

The paintings were so unlike the art Tony was used to seeing from Steve. His sketchbook was full of neat, tidy little drawings. They were nothing like the aggressive explosions of color Tony was seeing now. The cat went back to the bedroom before he could be discovered snooping. Steve came out of the shower to find Tony lying in a spot of warm sunshine and couldn’t repress a grin. He made the bed, a habit ingrained in him from his mother, the nun’s at the orphanage, and then the army. Tony grumbled in protest as Steve picked him up, his black fur warm to the touch. “Come on. The others must be waiting for us.” Tony snorted as he was carried toward the elevator. (You’ve lived here long enough to know that there is no way Clint or Natasha will wait until we arrive to eat. It’s survival of the hungriest in this place.)

The others were indeed already chowing down on waffles when Steve and Tony arrived. Bruce was pouring batter onto the waffle iron, using a butter knife to scrape off the sides as he closed the lid. “Good morning,” greeted Bruce.

“Morning,” Natasha echoed around a sip of coffee. Clint didn’t even bother trying to talk and just kept shoveling waffle into his mouth.

“Good morning everyone,” Steve replied, setting Tony on his stool. He got some cat food from the refrigerator to prepare the cat’s meal. Tony quickly gobbled up the pieces of waffle Natasha and Clint gave him behind Steve’s back.

“How are you feeling today, Tony?” asked Bruce. Tony shrugged and then made a big show of carefully arching his back, looking like a Halloween decoration. “Still a little sore, huh? Well, that’s to be expected after yesterday’s adventure.” He slid a waffle onto a plate and showered it with powdered sugar.

Steve put Tony’s plate down in front of him and didn’t say a word when Natasha added a dollop of her yogurt off to the side. (Thanks Nat!) Tony dug into his breakfast with enthusiasm. Afterward, Tony jumped from his stool to the kitchen counter and Jarvis turned on the faucet so he could take a long drink. The cat licked water droplets from his whiskers and turned to gauge the distance to the floor. Tony edged his front paws down the cabinet but backed up at the last second instead of jumping. He meowed loudly up as his teammates. (A little help, please? The poor injured kitty needs help.) Tony did not relish the thought of jumping while he was as sore as he was.

Natasha stood and lifted Tony gently to the floor. “Do not get used to this,” she grumbled. Tony licked her thumb and trotted out of the kitchen. He did his business in the bathroom and hopped up onto the vanity to look at himself in the mirror. (I can’t believe it’s been 7 days.) Tony turned his head this way and that. (It’s been a solid week of being a cat and there is no end in sight.) He sighed, frustrated and just a tiny bit scared.

“Sir?” asked Jarvis. “Are you alright?” Tony lashed his tail in dismissal and continued to stare at himself in the mirror. (What would it be like if I was stuck like this for the rest of my life; a human in a cat’s body, unable to even fend for myself or continue my work as an engineer? I’d go insane.) How long could he stand being unable to do anything? How long would his teammate put up with Tony as a cat? They wouldn’t get rid of him. They wouldn’t. Would they? “Sir,” Jarvis fairly snapped. Tony jumped a little and lifted his head to glare at where he knew the senor for the AI was located. (What, damnit?!) “The others are beginning to wonder where you have run off to. Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff have particularly become agitated.”

Tony carefully slipped from the vanity to the toilet to the floor with a grumble, trying to limit the jarring to his body. He slunk out into the living room, where everyone’s eyes zeroed in on him instantly. (There, you can see me. Happy now?) Tony glared at all of them. He felt slightly bad for his attitude when everyone’s shoulders relaxed as he appeared but nobody could hear him anyway, so why bother? Tony scoffed as well as he could as a cat and bypassed joining them on the couch and armchairs to climb up the cat tree and hide in the carpeted house. He walked over the shield plush toy as obnoxiously as he could manage. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak squeak squeak. SQUEAK. Then he settled down for a sulk.

The cat heard footsteps and Steve’s face appeared in the opening of the house, blue eyes worried. “Leave him alone for a little while,” Natasha said quietly somewhere behind him. Steve disappeared and the footsteps headed away.

“Is he sick?” hissed Clint.

“No,” Natasha replied. She must have gotten a look from the archer, because she continued speaking, “Tony is just contemplating his future. He has a lot to worry about.”

There was a long moment of silence. “He doesn’t think we’re going to leave him as a cat, does he? Because that’s bullshit!” Angry footsteps headed toward the cat tree and Tony tucked himself further into the corner of the carpeted house. Swift but light footsteps intercepted the heavy angry footsteps.

“Relax, Clint. Tony is just uncertain about what is going to happen and you know how much he hates not being in control,” Natasha explained. Tony lifted his head and glared at the entrance, even though all he could see was the wall of the other side of the room. (Stop psychoanalyzing me!) “Just let him relax and recoup,” advised Natasha. The footsteps headed away from the cat tree, Clint muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath. Tony laid his head back down and sighed.

It was probably 20 minutes before something went flying past the doorway of the carpeted house. “Clint,” scolded Bruce’s voice softly. Clint grumbled something back and something once again went flying past. Tony tried to be uninterested in whatever Clint was up to but lifted his head the next time something flew past despite himself. There was a faint clicking sound and again something flew past the opening. Tony got up and crawled over silently. The next time it happened, Tony sprang out and batted the thing out of the air, trapping it under his paws and sitting on it.

“Yes!” crowed Clint in triumph. Tony looked over to see he was holding some sort of toy fishing pole, a thin line stretching from the toy to the fish shaped felt plush Tony was sitting on. (What is this thing and why does it smell like moldy grass?) Clint jerked the fishing pole a little and Tony picked the fish plush up in his mouth. He jumped down to the floor and followed the line as Clint reeled the toy in. “Wanna play?” the archer asked. Tony let go of the fish plush and gave him a look. (I’m not sure I should be encouraging this type of behavior.) “Please?” wheedled Clint, waving the fish back and forth. “It’s made of catnip.” (Is that what that smell is? Aren’t cats supposed to like catnip?) The dusty dry plant smell from the felt fish toy had been anything but pleasant.

Clint flicked his wrist and the fish went sailing across the room. Natasha, sitting in an armchair by the window working on a crossword, looked up to glare at it. She did not enjoy small objects flying about out of the corner of her eye. Clint gave Tony a hopeful look and Tony walked over to the fish with a sigh. (And you all say I’m childish.) The cat was about to pick the fish up in his mouth when Clint jerked the line and the toy fish went flopping away. Tony glared back at Clint and bent once more to pick the fish up only to have it flop away again. After that, it was on like Donkey Kong. 

Bruce had acquired a stack of science journals and was reading them one by one while making liberal use of a red pen. Steve was sitting on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees, slowing making his way around the internet. Natasha had finished the crossword and moved on to a Sudoku puzzle, only slapping flying fabric mice out of the air when they got too close to control reflex. Meanwhile, every cat toy Jarvis had ordered and some things that weren’t strictly cat toys were strewn across the living room floor. Tony’s head and shoulders were wedged under a low cabinet, trying to dig out a bird shaped feathered thing that had slid under there while Clint laughed like a hyena behind him. Tony probably didn’t need to dig out the feathered thing. One of the cleaning robots would get it later. But it was the principle of the matter. It was prey, therefore it must die. This whole being a cat thing could be very trying at times. 

A few decorative knickknacks on top of the cabinet shook as Tony rattled the furniture with his efforts to retrieve the evil feathered thing. Tony growled, back claws scrabbling at the hardwood floor, when gentle hands grabbed his rump and pulled him out from under the cabinet. The cat yowled in protest. “Here, stop that before you hurt yourself,” muttered Clint, reaching under the cabinet with his stupid human thumbs and flicking the feathered bird toy out. Tony pushed out of Clint’s arms and was after the vile toy like a flash. Clint started laughing again as Tony hit the armchair that Bruce was sitting in. Unfortunately, the feline could fit under there and Tony disappeared into the dusty darkness.

Bruce blinked over the side of the chair. “Tony?” He changed to look over the other side. “Are you alright?” Tony exploded out from the under the chair without warning, feathered bird in his mouth, and dashed toward the cat tree. Clint lunged for him but missed and then Tony was springing up the levels of the cat tree until he was in the tallest crow’s nest, smugly dropping the bird and resting a paw on top of it like some big game hunter posing for a photo. He meowed triumphantly from his perch.

“Very good, Sir. I believe the bird toy is extra dead now,” Jarvis praised drily. Everybody laughed at that while Tony glared down at them. (Ha ha. I don’t see any of you doing anything impressive.) Natasha and Bruce were reading and Steve was still on his computer. Tony dropped the bird toy over the side of the crow’s nest and watched it plummet to the floor. He then shimmied down the cat tree, carefully going butt first.

Steve stopped typing on his laptop and looked at his watch. “Jarvis, call Dr. Strange again.”

“Yes, Captain.” After a moment, Jarvis announced that the call had gone to voicemail again. Steve left another message, a frustrated frown on his face. “Shall I call Professor Xavier as well?” asked Jarvis helpfully.

“No. No, I don’t want to harass the man. Is the number for Wanda still disconnected?”

“I’m afraid it is, Captain.”

“Shit.” It was said very quietly but Tony still tripped over his paws in surprise, fumbling over a ramp low on the cat tree. Clint turned wide eyes toward Steve but Natasha threw a catnip mouse at his forehead before Clint could start some ill-advised teasing. Steve had cursed before, he wasn’t that innocent, but he usually kept his cursing to the battlefield and moments of extreme anger.

“I know you feel frustrated Steve,” soothed Bruce. “But I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to turn Tony back soon. Thor should be back any time now with help.”

“I know,” Steve grumbled, running his hand over his face. “I just feel useless sitting here doing nothing. I almost want to try going after Loki again.” Tony trotted over to the couch, ignoring Clint’s attempts to waylay him with a feather wand, and hopped up on the cushions. (What are you doing, Cap?) He glanced at the computer screen and felt his insides turn a little gooey. Steve was searching for magicians and magic-users with Google. Unfortunately, all he was getting was party performers and people offering palm readings. (Aw, Steve. That’s sweet of you.) Tony trilled up at the blond, punching the ESC key on the computer and pawing the screen closed. (Don’t stress yourself out. You’ll get little lines around your eyes.) The feline flopped onto Steve’s lap. Steve had no choice but to smile fondly and move the laptop aside before Tony’s could push it to the floor. “Just make yourself comfortable,” he said drily, running a hand along the cat’s ribs.

“Clint, I swear if you throw another cat toy near me I’ll start shoving them down your throat,” snapped Natasha. The archer paled, clutching his toy fishing pole to his chest. Bruce chuckled. (Honestly, I think Clint likes the cat toys more than I do.) 

Tony began to purr, kneading at Steve’s thigh. (Is it lunch time yet?) He chittered and wrapped his paws around Steve’s wrist. “What are you doing?” asked Steve trying to pull his arm away. Tony hung on, lashing his tail from side to side and meowing. “Tony, I don’t speak cat. Jarvis, do you know what he is going on about?”

Tony let go of Steve’s wrist, flicked a paw and swiveled his ears. “I’m sorry, Sir?” Jarvis asked in confusion. The cat scowled. They didn’t have a set nonverbal command for ‘feed me’ that Tony could translate into cat body language. (Umm. Let’s see here…) Swish, flick, flick, swivel. There was a short pause before Jarvis ventured a guess. “I believe Sir is asking to be fed.” Tony meowed in agreement. His genius knew no bounds and his AI was the best, considering he was demanding to know where the booze in the workshop was. Jarvis was just awesome like that.

“I guess we should think about lunch,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Do we even have anything left in the kitchen?” asked Bruce, setting his magazine aside. “We haven’t bothered to get groceries in the last week.” Tony flopped across Steve’s knees pathetically. (Oh god! We’re going to starve!)

“We could order in again,” Clint suggested unenthusiastically. He was busy lining up all the fabric mice from largest to smallest.

“We’ve been ordering take out for the last three days,” Natasha complained. “No more. We could send down to the kitchen for something?”

Steve frowned. “The Tower kitchen is for SI employees and other workers.”

“Natasha is still technically listed as an employee of Stark Industries as Natalie Rushman,” Clint pointed out. Natasha groaned a little, as if this fact pained her beyond belief.

“Sir has said many times that you are welcome to use the Tower kitchen for your own needs,” Jarvis told them. “He had ordered dinners from the kitchen for your consumption many times.”

“Tony!” scolded Steve, looking down at the cat in his lap. “We’re perfectly able to feed ourselves. You shouldn’t bother the kitchen staff on our behalf.”

“Except we really can’t feed ourselves right now,” Bruce said sheepishly. “It’s either ordering in or some of us will have to go shopping.”

“Ugh! To hell with that,” Clint groaned. “Tony pays a three star Michelin chef obscene amounts of money so he can have tiramisu at the butt crack of dawn, then we can damn well order lunch from him too.” Tony made an insulted noise. (That was one time and I was high on pain meds from a broken arm!)

“Well, I suppose,” Steve agreed hesitantly.

“Jarvis, is there a menu we should pick from or can we just order anything?” asked Bruce.

“The kitchen staff would have no problem making whatever you desire but today’s cafeteria menu includes chicken parmesan with roasted vegetables, beef medallions in mushroom sauce with asparagus, pan seared tilapia with buttered rice, and vegetarian lasagna with garlic bread. There is also a large selection of wrapped sandwiches, prepared salads, as well as a soup and potato bar.” Tony licked his lips in response. (Mmmm. Beef medallions.)

“Chicken parmesan!” cried Clint excitedly.

“Clint, no,” Natasha chastised. “Save it for dinner.” Clint pouted at her, slumping back into his pile of cat toys.

“I think some sandwiches and salad will do us well enough, maybe some chips and some sodas too. I don’t think there’s anything in the fridge to drink,” Bruce said diplomatically.

“I guess that’s easy enough,” Steve allowed, feeling better knowing they weren’t really inconveniencing the kitchen staff.

“Spoilsports,” Clint moaned.

“I shall call down and have an assortment put together,” Jarvis announced, ignoring the archer.

“Better put in a grocery and supply order too, Jarvis,” instructed Bruce. “If it’s done now, it should be here in time for us to cook our own dinner.”

“I shall, Doctor Banner.”

“Chicken parmesan,” lamented Clint in a sorrowful tone. Natasha rolled her eyes and flopped back in her chair to continue her book.

About 15 minutes later, Jarvis warned them that Alice was heading up the elevator with lunch. Tony jumped from Steve’s lap and hid in the carpeted house of the cat tree as the aid wheeled out a cart full of sandwiches, Styrofoam containers of salad and soup, and a small cooler with chilled cans of soda, iced tea, and bottled water. Alice smiled as the Avengers stood and swarmed over the cart like hungry locusts. “I brought a little bit of everything,” she said with a chuckle.

“Thank you, Miss Alice,” Steve said with a smile.

“Nah. It’s nothing, Cap,” the aid said, pulling on her black Stark Industries t-shirt. “I’ve got your grocery order too and will have that up by this afternoon. I also need to mention that housekeeping is getting antsy about getting up here and taking care of things. If you want to schedule a time with Jarvis, that would be great.” Housekeeping for the Avengers’ floors was only done under the watchful eye of Alice and Jarvis and even then Natasha and Clint insisted on being present for their floors.

“I’m almost out of towels,” Clint said, as if surprised about this fact. He was half way through a BLT sandwich and a can of Coke.

“We’ll be sure to make time for housekeeping to take care of our floors, Miss Alice,” promised Steve. Clint captured the cart and was rolling it toward the kitchen.

Alice shifted nervously on her feet and Steve gave her a bland, inquiring smile. “Is Mr. Stark here?” the aid blurted after an awkward moment.

Steve blinked. “Oh. Um…”

“I’m sorry but Sir is still unavailable,” Jarvis replied gently.

Alice looked disappointed. “Oh. Ok.” She turned to go but aborted the motion. “Mr. Stark is okay, right?” Steve’s face looked uncertain at the question and Alice’s blue eyes widened, her face twisting in concern.

“I assure you, Miss, Sir is quite well,” responded the AI, still sounding soothing and reassuring.

“It’s just that he hasn’t sent me out on a city wide trek for muffins in a week and you know Mr. Stark can’t go more than a couple of days without his muffin fix and you guys have been acting so weird lately and, sure, Mr. Stark is known for disappearing for days on end but never this completely and, oh god, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right? Right!?” Alice fairly wailed in distress. Natasha shifted away from the young woman in discomfort and shrugged at Steve when he shot her a desperate look.

“Now, Miss Hale,” soothed Bruce, reaching forward to pat her shoulder. “There is no reason to be distraught. I’m sure…”

“Alice!” the aid snapped, cutting Bruce off. “For pity’s sake, I’ve washed your guys’ underwear. You can call me by my first name.” She sniffled. “When did you guys get a cat?” They looked over their shoulders to find Tony sitting in full view on a cat tree platform. Tony had been wary of anybody not aware of his transformation seeing him and they were all surprised when the cat jumped down and trotted over to Alice with a meow. “There is actually a cat. Here I thought I was losing my mind when all those pet supplies were delivered a week ago,” she muttered. Alice crouched down and extended a hand toward the feline. “Here kitty kitty.” Tony shoved his head into the palm of her hand and the aid smiled. “Good kitty. Does Mr. Stark,” meow, “know you have a cat in the Tower? He,” meow, “doesn’t really like animals all that much. Mr. Stark,” MEOW. This time the strident meow was accompanied by a nip of fangs. Alice looked down at the cat in confusion. 

Bruce cleared his throat. “Mr. Stark,” he recited. Tony meowed loudly again, staring up at Alice hard.

The aid paled a little. “Mr. Stark?” she asked in a strangled tone of voice. The cat nodded and meowed again more softly. “Oh god. My boss is a pussycat,” Alice lamented faintly. Tony gently patted her hand sympathetically with a paw.

“We had a bit of a run in with some magic,” explained Bruce.

Alice looked up at him with wide eyes. “A bit!?”

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” soothed Steve. “He still understands everything and he’s healthy. We’re working on getting him turned back into a human. It won’t be much longer.”

Alice ran her hands over her face. “Take a job with Stark Industries, he said,” she muttered between her fingers. “It’s just managing the Tower’s living spaces. Keep track of the laundry and stock the pantry. It will be easy. No big deal. Oh my god.” But because the last year had been full of alien invasions, construction crews up and down at all hours, and superhero teams with very large appetites and a stupid amount of dirty clothing, Alice took a deep breath and dropped her hands. She was made of sterner stuff. If Pepper Potts could keep her head when faced with the weirdness around Tony Stark, then so could Alice. “Do you need anything, Mr. Stark? More cat food? Litter?” she asked with a measure of calmness.

“We need more cat toys!” Clint cried from the kitchen.

“We do not need any more cat toys!” snapped Natasha, taking the opportunity to stomp off to the kitchen after the cart of food.

“No cat toys,” Steve reassured Alice, “or litter. But maybe some food? He’s fond of the salmon.”

“I shall provide Miss Alice with a list of Sir’s favorites,” Jarvis said.

“Okay,” muttered Alice, scratching absently behind Tony’s ears. She took another deep breath. “Okay,” the aid said more firmly. She stood and straightened her clothing. “I’ll be back later with your food order and Mr. Stark’s cat food. Oh my god. How is this my life? You know how to reach me if you need to make any changes.”

“Thank you, Miss Alice,” Steve said. Tony meowed and waved a paw. Alice shuffled into the elevator in a daze and the doors closed smoothly behind her.

Bruce sighed and slipped off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Come on. We better join Clint and Natasha in the kitchen before they eat all of the turkey sandwiches. The Other Guy really likes his turkey sandwiches.”


	16. SIXTEEN

They decimated everything Alice had brought up for lunch. All that was left was the Styrofoam containers and the cart. Clint was rummaging in the freezer for dessert but all he could find were three cartons of Neapolitan ice cream that had the strawberry and chocolate flavors eaten out of them. “Somebody really needs to get Thor to understand ice cream etiquette,” complained the archer, setting the cartons on the island and fetching spoons.

“Thor doesn’t like strawberry ice cream,” Natasha said. “He thinks it tastes weird.”

Steve gave an embarrassed little cough and blushed. “Sorry. That’s my fault.”

“Ho ho!” crowed Clint. “Mr. Manners is an ice cream snob. Vanilla isn’t good enough for you.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, putting a small scoop of vanilla ice cream into a dish for Tony to lap up. “Look who’s talking. I’ve seen you turn your nose up at some plain vanilla before.”

“Vanilla is boring,” Clint retorted, watching as Natasha rooted around in the cabinets. She unearthed a chocolate bar and then proceeded to smash the hell out of it with the bottom of a heavy Pyrex mixing bowl. The redhead brought the pieces back to the island and they sprinkled it onto their ice cream. All except for Tony, who pouted at being denied chocolate once again.

“Sorry Tony,” apologized Steve, ruffling the cat’s fur. “Chocolate is bad for animals. You know that.” Tony sighed, licking at his glob of vanilla ice cream. (Being a cat really sucks. I miss candy and chocolate.)

They cleaned up their mess and Bruce pushed the cart back into the elevator. Jarvis would take it down to the kitchen level and an aid would claim it. They went back to the living room and reclaimed their places. Tony hopped up on the couch, ignoring Clint and the toy fishing pole, and crawled into Steve’s lap. “I’m feeling unloved here,” muttered the archer. (Sorry. Steve’s lap is just too comfy.)Clint abandoned the cat toys and settled in front of the TV, pulling up a game of Mario Cart. 

Steve grabbed his laptop and balanced it on his knees. Tony gave him an unimpressed look. (Really? You’re going to ignore me to surf the web?) The cat watched as Steve opened his remote access to SHIELD and began to use the search function. (Oh Steve…) Tony trilled sadly as the list of magic users that SHIELD had files for populated the screen. The cat licked at Steve’s thumb. (I know you’re trying to help me but you’re going frustrate yourself and end up destroying a punching bag in the gym at this rate.) Steve lifted one hand to rub at Tony’s ears and the cat sighed, knowing his meaning had not gotten through the blond’s hard head. “Do we have a way of contacting Clea? Besides through Doctor Strange, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, Captain. I can find no way of contacting Lady Clea referenced,” Jarvis replied.

“Unless you want to start sacrificing the souls of innocents or some shit,” Clint muttered, jerking his game controller to the right and grunting at the characters up on the TV.

For a second it looked like Steve didn’t know if Clint was joking or not and then the blond snorted and went back to scrolling through the SHIELD files. Tony closed his eyes in anguish. (Come on Steve. Don’t drive yourself crazy with this. I know we’ll figure something out soon. Thor will bring help or the spell will wear off or something. I won’t be a cat forev…) The fear and worry that Tony had been steadfastly ignoring rose like a wave inside him and the cat hid his face in the crook of Steve’s elbow. (I won’t be a cat forever. It will be ok.) Tony thought to himself, unable to voice his anxieties or ask for comfort. After a couple of minutes, Steve sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t supposed we know if the Enchantress is on Earth or not?” he asked with hopelessness in his voice.

“Steve, no,” Bruce moaned. “She’s almost as bad as Loki.”

“And she can’t be trusted or controlled,” added Natasha.

“I hate magic,” growled Steve, stabbing viciously at the computer keys.

“Amen!” Clint agreed with feeling.

Tony murred and licked Steve’s thumb again. (I know you feel responsible Steve, but you’ve got to relax. We’ll figure something out.) The feline laid his head down on Steve’s forearm and tried to be as annoying as possible by patting his paw all over the touchpad, causing the cursor to go skittering all over the computer screen. Tony was hoping if he was irritating enough, Steve would give up. Steve jiggled his knee. “Stop,” he muttered, pushing Tony’s paw away.

_[Well, you don’t sound like you’ve been turned into a cat.]_ Tony jumped up with a shocked yowl. Steve yelped as claws dug into his thighs. (Jesus Christ! Warn a guy, Xavier!) Tony thought back. The cat rolled across the couch cushions as Steve dumped him off his lap. A wave of amusement flowed across Tony’s mind. _[My apologies.]_

“Sir, Professor Xavier and a guest are requesting entrance to the Tower at the security desk in the Lobby,” Jarvis announced. Tony waved a paw and flicked his ear twice. “Of course, Sir.”

Steve brushed at his thigh and winced. “I think I’m bleeding,” he muttered. Tony meowed at him apologetically and Steve rubbed between his ears. “It’s nothing.” Bruce was tidying away his magazines and Clint was saving his game and putting away the controller, turning the TV off. The elevator announced itself with a ding, which it didn’t usually do, and Professor Xavier and a young woman exited the carriage. Steve gave a relieved smile. “Professor, I’m so glad you could spare the time to help us,” he said, stepping forward to shake the telepath’s hand.

“My pleasure,” Charles replied, his gaze sweeping across everyone in the room. Clint and Natasha met his eyes calmly while singing 99 bottles of beer as loudly as they could in their heads. A muscle in the telepath’s cheek jumped and he moved on to smile at Bruce. “Doctor Banner, it is a pleasure to meet you again. Your research in gamma radiation has aided me in my research into mutant genes greatly.”

Bruce smiled awkwardly. “If you say so,” he said dubiously, shaking the man’s hand.

“I do say so. It’s been a great help. Now, it’s my understanding that Mr. Stark has undergone a metamorphosis?” Tony jumped off the couch and trotted over to sit in front of Xavier’s wheelchair. The young woman standing behind his shoulder gave the cat a curious look before smiling in amusement. (Yeah. That would be me.) Xavier blinked. “Oh dear. I must say, when you first told me Mr. Stark had been turned into a cat, I was half convinced it was a joke.”

“No. Sorry,” Steve said with a sheepish smile. “We’re very serious. Loki turned him into a cat a week ago and he’s been stuck like this ever since.”

“Ah yes, the alien god. Loki has been making himself a nuisance to us as well. He keeps appearing at the school and turning the pool water into different flavors of Jell-o. Very messy,” Xavier said, peering down at the feline. “I do not know how much help a mutant’s powers will be against alien magic but I brought one of the most accomplished magic users I know to assist you.” The young woman grinned at Xavier’s praise. Her long pale blond hair hung straight down her back and she was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a dark blue top.

“She’s a kid,” blurted Clint.

The blond woman smiled sharply. “I’m older than I look,” she replied with a Russian accent worn soft around the edges from time in other countries. Natasha eyebrow rose and she looked at the young woman with new interest. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Limbo. Time moves funny there.”

“May I introduce Illyana Rasputin,” Xavier stated. “She’s currently staying at the school and helping me with the more magical inclined of my students. I’m sure Illyana will be able to help somehow.”

“I’ve never tangled with a god but I’ve gone up against a few demons before. The magic can’t be too dissimilar. I’ll try my best,” Illyana assured them.

“Anything you could do would be helpful,” Steve said earnestly. “I must admit, we’re at a loss right now. Thor has returned to his home to see if he can get help and we’ve tried to capture Loki with less than spectacular results. We’ve been asking other magic users that we know for help but as of yet haven’t gotten any other responses.”

Illyana gave Steve a gentler smile. Tony understood; it was hard not to want to cuddle a sincere and pleading Captain America. Those blue eyes were deadly. “Like I said, I’ll try my best.” Tony shifted on his paws. (I feel so reassured.) The young woman looked down at him and smirked. “You wanna get started now?” she asked. (Might as well.) Tony shrugged his shoulders.

“That would be great. Do you need anything?” asked Steve.

“Nope. If the cat in question would go to the middle of the room, I’ll start trying to figure out the spell on him,” Illyana said. (Bossy) Tony thought, causing Xavier to smile. The feline turned and walked out to behind the couch. The young woman followed and folded herself down to sit cross-legged a couple of feet from him. “I don’t know how long this will take,” Illyana cautioned them, resting her hands palms up on her knees.

“Take your time, my dear,” Xavier said.

“Let us know if there is anything we can do to help,” Bruce added.

“Try not to distract me and I should be fine.” Illyana looked down at Tony and ordered sternly, “Don’t move.” She then closed her eyes and went still. For several minutes nothing happened. Tony sat on the floor while Illyana frowned faintly in front of him. Clint poked Natasha in the arm with a confused look but she just brushed him off. Steve and Bruce exchanged shrugs before looking questioningly at Professor Xavier but the man ignored them with a serene look on his face. 

For almost 10 minutes everything was still and then they all startled as a ring of white light suddenly burst to life around Tony. A crackle of energy danced across everyone’s skin, raising their hair. “Uh?” muttered Clint. Natasha elbowed him in the side and he fell silent. A beam burst up from the ring of light and passed over Tony, shrinking into a small ball over his head. The light sphere floated gently in the air. Steve watched anxiously as things went silent again and the light glowed brightly.

Tony itched all over, as if his skin was trying to crawl off his body, but he made himself be still. Illyana frowned harder. “This isn’t a proper spell,” she announced finally. “It’s all messy and full of hate and anger.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” asked Xavier.

“A little bit good, a little bit bad,” Illyana answered. “That Loki guy must have thrown the spell hard and fast at Mr. Stark. It’s all twisted up and knotted together but not put together very well.” She lifted a hand and poked a finger at the sphere above Tony. The light unwound into several rings the spun lazily around the cat. (I’m suddenly feeling a lot less sure about this!) The feline squeezed his golden eyes shut, dizzy from the moving lights.

“If it’s not put together well, then that means you can take it apart easily, right?” asked Steve hopefully.

Illyana shook her head. She pinched one of the light rings and Tony felt as if something was trying to pluck the fur off his back leg. He meowed in protest and the young woman let go. She sighed. “The spell is extremely powerful but also pure chaos. It makes it hard to get ahold on it.”

Clint snorted. “That makes sense,” he muttered sourly. “Loki is nothing more than a bag full of crazy.”

“If it were a proper spell, I’d be able to unpin its start point and work my way from there,” Illyana continued. She waved her hand and the light rings spun crazily around Tony before settling into new positions. “As it is, this spell is all twisted up like a crazy Gordian Knot. I’m not sure I could unravel it, even if given all the time in the world.”

“Then could you not do as Alexander the Great did and cut the knot in half?” suggested Natasha.

Again, Illyana shook her head. “That would be an extremely bad idea.”

“How bad of an idea?” Steve asked worriedly.

“At best it would destroy Mr. Stark’s mind. At worst it would outright kill him.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Please be careful,” he pleaded.

“Don’t worry. Harming Mr. Stark is the last thing I mean to do,” Illyana replied. “Let me see if I can make a dent in the spell.” She lifted a hand and spun the rings again. Being in the light rings was strange for Tony. He felt like he was floating and his stomach wanted to climb up his throat every time Illyana moved the rings. He felt like the answer cube in a Magic 8 Ball, twisting and turning in fluid. (I’m gonna be sick.)

An hour passed. Clint folded himself down to sit on the floor. A couple of minutes later Natasha did the same and they leaned against each other, watching the young witch work. Annoyance flitted across Illyana’s face as she worked the light rings. She frowned and gritted her teeth but didn’t say anything else, her hand twisting and turning every which way. Bruce quietly shuffled over to sit in an arm chair. Steve stared hard at Illyana and Tony, not missing a moment. Professor Xavier had closed his eyes and seemed to be resting, although it was impossible to tell with the telepath. He could be holding a conversation with someone across the Atlantic Ocean and they would have no way of knowing.

On the second hour, Bruce stood and quietly fetched some water bottles from the kitchen. He passed them out. Natasha and Clint gave him grateful looks while Steve merely took the bottle and held it absently in his hand, not even bothering to open it. _[Thank you, Doctor Banner.]_ Xavier thought to Bruce as he accepted the drink. The scientist smiled back, a bit discomforted by hearing the telepath’s voice in his head.

On the third hour, Illyana stood, stretched, and settled on the opposite side of the light rings. Even Steve had to sit down after so much time, although he kept his eyes glued to Tony. At this point Illyana began tugging at the rings. She pinched them between his fingertips and delicately pulled, muttering under her breath. Tony’s left paw rose in the air in response. Illyana grabbed another ring and tested it. Tony grumbled at her, feeling as if someone had set a fishing hook under his flesh and was trying to pull his skin off. She let go and pulled another ring. Tony’s tail curled up over his back. The feline licked his nose in discomfort. (I feel like a puppet on strings.) 

“I think I might be getting somewhere,” Illyana mumbled. She turned the rings and Tony gasped as he flipped onto his side. “Alright, I think I have something,” the blond woman announced after three and a half hours. Clint jerked out of his doze against Natasha’s shoulder and Bruce looked up from his magazine.

“You can turn Tony back into a human?” asked Steve, his face brightening.

“Maybe,” Illyana said cautiously. “It might not work but I have a solution I can try. This spell is a doozy. Asgardian magic is like nothing I’ve ever seen. But I can give it a try?” She cocked an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve nodded. “Please, anything you might be able to do is helpful.”

Illyana turned Tony right side up and stood. “This is probably going to hurt,” she warned the cat. “And I don’t mean a little. I mean a lot. Do you still want to go through with it?” Tony took a deep breath, his ears flattening to his head. (Yeah. Do your worst. I can take it.) Illyana looked over to Professor Xavier and the older man gave her a nod. “Alright. Here go’s nothing.” The young woman grabbed on to two light rings and braced herself. She began to speak in a low hissing tone that caused the light rings to brighten and then turn a blood red.

Energy sparked off the rings and crawled like little worms across the floor. Clint and Natasha jumped to their feet and backed away. Everything in the room rattled gently and they could feel the faint vibration in their teeth. Illyana began to pull, leaning her whole body back. The red light rings stretched into ovals. Illyana continued to hiss angrily, occasionally growling out a word that hurt the ears to hear. Her long blond hair crackled under the onslaught.

Tony grunted as heat washed over him. He closed his eyes and fought to keep his stomach in place. It felt as if the world had split in two and was trying to move in different directions under his feet. Everything rolled sickeningly. A gasp escaped the cat as a force grabbed at his fur and pulled hard. This was much worse than when Illyana had been pulling on the rings. This felt like it was trying to rip his whole body apart. Tony withstood it, trying to keep silent for his friend’s sakes, for Steve’s sake, until he felt something snap in his right front leg. It was less like a bone had broken and more like all the bones had been crushed to powder. Tony screamed in pain.

Steve jumped to his feet as the cat screamed. “Oh my god! Stop!” He stepped forward but Xavier grabbed his arm.

Illyana ignored them, still pulling and hissing. Sweat beaded on her forehead. A ring stretched thin and then ripped with a sound like tearing silk. It snapped out, hitting the floor and scorching the wood. The feline continued to scream and Bruce covered his ears, green creeping up his arms. Clint grabbed him and hauled the other man into the elevator and away. Illyana stepped back and growled out a word, pulling hard. The light rings she was holding were stretched out long and thin but refused to break. Acid green sparks shot out at Illyana but she just narrowed her eyes and ignored them. Tony’s skin began to bubble, as if being boiled from the inside. A burning smell began to fill the room and Xavier covered his mouth.

Everything was pain for Tony. The world had ended and been reborn with only pain. Bones shattered and skin rotted. His tail shriveled away like a wasted limb and then reformed. Breathing was impossible. Thinking was impossible. Only the pain remained. The pain and the screaming.

Natasha grabbed Steve’s other arm as he tried to reach the young witch again. “Stop! You’re hurting him!” Steve sobbed out. The black shape in the center of the red rings that had been Tony twisted back on itself. Natasha swallowed but refused to look away as the cat was seemingly ripped apart. Illyana was still pulling and hissing, a determined glare on her face.

“Stop, Illyana. It’s not working,” Xavier said softly, barely audible over the howls of pain and crackle of the light rings.

Illyana let go of the rings and they snapped violently back into place. She stomped her foot hard, her heel like a bell against the hardwood, and swished her hands over the light rings. The rings went from blood red to a gentle lavender color and the screaming stopped. Illyana folded the rings over each other, pursing her lips to emit a soft whistling noise. The lavender light swirled into a ball, hiding Tony inside. Illyana muttered and sighed at the ball of light for a moment and then stepped back. The ball unraveled and disappeared like fog, leaving a black cat lying on the floor. “Goddamnit!” growled Illyana, storming away.

Xavier and Natasha allowed Steve to pull away from them and he hurried over to scoop the limp feline up from the floor. “Tony?! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” he demanded in distress. Golden eyes blinked open. (Whaz-it? Huh?) “Tony?”

“Give him a moment, Captain,” Professor Xavier said. “He’s a little discombobulated.”

“But is he okay? Miss Rasputin didn’t hurt him, did she?”

“He’s fine,” Illyana snapped. She paced a short, sharp line behind Xavier’s wheelchair. “He might be a little woozy but there won’t be any lingering effects of the unsuccessful spell.” The young witch kicked a chair leg angrily. “Damnit all to Hell! I’ve never seen a spell protect itself like that! This Loki asshole is one squirrely sorcerer! I’d like to meet him just so I can punch him in the face,” she snarled.

“You and me both,” Natasha said, watching the angry magic user carefully.

“Calm down, Illyana,” soothed Xavier. “You did the best you could. Let me see your hands.”

“I’m fine!”

“Let me see them.” Illyana gritted her teeth but turned her palms up to show the telepath. They were red and raw, the fingertips forming blisters. Xavier sighed.

“I’ve had worse,” the young witch muttered.

“I’ll get the first aid kit. You can at least put burn cream them,” Natasha offered, heading for the kitchen.

“Thank you, Agent,” replied Xavier. Tony roused himself enough to lift his head and look down at his body. (It didn’t work.) “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. It seems Illyana was unable to remove the spell on you,” Xavier said, giving the cat a regretful look.

“The only way that spell is coming off is if the original caster takes it off,” grouched Illyana. “Its hooks are too imbedded for anyone else to remove it.” Tony meowed sorrowfully at the news, wiggling up out of Steve’s arms to perch on his shoulder. Steve reached up and cupped a hand around his back to steady him. Natasha came back and handed Xavier the first aid kit. Soon Illyana’s hands had been treated and her fingers wrapped in bandages.

Clint and Bruce returned to the common floor after Jarvis gave the all clear. “No joy, huh?” asked the archer.

Natasha shook her head and came over to rub at Bruce’s arm. “It didn’t work. It was a good thing you left. It wasn’t pretty near the end but Tony seems to be fine now,” she muttered soothingly.

Tony studied his paw, spreading his claws wide and then retracting them. He remembered his leg breaking but the limb wasn’t even sore. (It hurt. I remember it hurting like a bitch. I felt like I was being torn apart. But it’s like a fading dream, losing hold as soon as the sun rises. I feel fine. I’m not even dizzy or sore. Weird.) Steve stroked gently along the cat’s spine. “Are you alright, Tony? The screaming… Do you feel okay?” he asked concernedly. Tony bumped his forehead against Steve’s ear and rubbed along his cheek. (I’m fine, Stevie. I don’t hurt at all. Xavier? Tell Stevie I’m fine for me.)

“Mr. Stark wishes me to relay that he is fine, Stevie,” Xavier dutifully parroted, the edges of his lips curling up. Tony squawked. (Not that part!) Bruce and Clint chuckled while Steve blushed a little but chuckled as well. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help,” the telepath said regretfully.

“We’re grateful you tried Professor, Miss Rasputin,” said Bruce. “We have no choice but to take any opportunity that comes to us. So, thank you for making time to come see us.”

“You tell me when you catch up to Loki. I want to have a word or two with him,” Illyana said, balling her fingers and shaking her fist. “You don’t make a spell like that unless you’re a grade A asshole.”

Natasha grinned. “We’ll see what we can do.” Illyana nodded smartly at her.

“Best of luck,” Xavier offered.

“Thank you, Professor. We’re going to need it,” Steve replied. The Avengers offered coffee but the two mutants declining, saying they wished to get back to the school before dinnertime for the students. Soon, all that was left of the visitors was some black scorch marks on the wooden floors. A little blue robot with a rotating brush head was attacking the marks like they personally offended it. A second robot painted a sunny yellow was following behind the little blue robot, wiping the floor dry.

“Christ. I need a drink,” Clint announced. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of something dark amber. Natasha flicked a hand at him and the archer came back to the living room with another glass. The two agents settled on a loveseat and sipped at their drinks, trying to unwind and settled their nerves.

“You want a root beer, Steve?” Bruce asked.

Steve carefully sat on the couch and eased Tony down onto his lap, handling the feline like he was made of spun glass. “Please. Thank you, Bruce,” the blond replied. Tony curled himself up and began tending to his fur, rough pink tongue working to smooth down the tuffs. He looked like he’d been in a fight with that damn coyote again and it irritated him to be so messy. Tony hoped this obsession with cleanliness wasn’t going to carry over when he became human again. It would make being in the chaotic and dirty workshop a pain in the butt.

Bruce handed Steve his root beer and sat in the armchair with a sigh. He popped the cap on his own drink and took a long pull from the bottle. The mood in the room was subdued. A lot of hopes had been riding on this attempt and it had failed spectacularly. Frankly, they were at a dead end and out of ideas. Clint and Natasha finished their glasses but were too unmotivated to get up and refill them. Tony sniffed at Steve’s root beer, practically shoving his nose into the opening, but the smell burned up between his eyes and he pushed the bottle away with a paw and a grumble. Steve cracked a wan smile and set the bottle aside, not even drinking from it once.

“Shall I call Doctor Strange again?” Jarvis prompted helpfully several minutes later. Steve waved a hand and the AI dialed the number before announcing that the call had gone to voicemail again. “I shall leave the same message as before,” he said, the AI’s tone slightly annoyed. Steve just sighed. Clint slithered off the loveseat and picked up the game controller, scrolling through the game selection for something to occupy his attention. Tony’s tail flicked back and forth from where he was sitting on Steve’s lap like a throne. (You guys are acting like someone died. Do I look dead to you? What’s with the funeral behavior?) Bruce took another drink from his root bear and Tony snorted. (Really, really missing being able to talk right now.)

Natasha folded herself down next to Clint on the floor and pulled the other game controller out of the cabinet. Thankfully, they were soon playing a loud war game and yelling insults in Russian at each other, pushing away the sullen, disappointed atmosphere that had been hanging over the living room. At least Bruce was cracking a smile as Clint attempted to wave his hand in front of Natasha’s face to block her vision and operate his controller at the same time. “You are going to lose that hand, Barton!” the redhead screeched.

Steve, on the other hand, was slowly running his hand over Tony’s side and still acting like his favorite flavor of ice cream had been discontinued. Tony licked his thumb. (Poor sulky Stevie bear. It was a good try but it didn’t work. We’ll try something else next and if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else again. I know you guys aren’t quitters. We’ll figure something out.) The cat purred, hoping to sooth the other man.

It wasn’t too long after that that Jarvis was announcing that Alice had arrived with the food order. The aid exited the elevator hauling three full carts behind her. Of course, this was when Natasha was strangling Clint with her thighs and ruthlessly killing his character on the TV screen with an icepick. Video games were a dangerous contact sport for the Avengers. (Oi! Murder Twin, stop traumatizing my employees!) Tony yowled at them, hopping off Steve’s lap to the coffee table and then reaching out a paw to swipe at Natasha’s arm. (Normal person in the room, Nat! Time to pretend to be sane!) Natasha tilted her head back and grinned at Alice. This did not help matters.

“Um. Is this a bad time?” the aid squeaked.

Clint twisted around to look at her and then wiggled out from between Natasha’s legs. “Food!” the archer cried, attacking a cart and pulling off several bags of chips.

Alice stepped away as if Clint were something rabid. “I understand Miss Potts frat boy house comment now,” she muttered.

“I swear, we’re not all that bad,” Bruce said wryly. Natasha was busy tearing apart some ninjas on the video game, a slightly maniacal smile on her face.

“Uh huh,” Alice replied dubiously. Tony jumped to the floor and trotted over to her. (It’s okay, Alice. I swear they’re harmless. Well, unless you’re secretly a super villain.) He coiled around her legs, getting black fur on her uniform khakis. The aid grinned down at Tony and crouched to pet him.

Bruce claimed the cart that seemed to have the dairy and meat products on it. “I’ll just start putting things away,” he announced, wheeling the cart toward the kitchen.

“I have a surprise for you, Mr. Stark,” Alice said excitedly. Tony’s ears perked up. (What type of surprise? It better not be a can of Fancy Feast or I will shred your clothing and hock a hairball in your shoes.) Alice pulled a brown paper bag from a cart and fished out a plastic jar. It had a brightly colored label on it. “I stopped by Petite Paws and picked you up a few toys and some treats. I even got some catnip!” Alice tried to take everything out of the bag while Tony tried to stick his head inside the bag. Tony found the bag very attractive for some reason that tickled the back of his feline brain. Alice giggled and put the bag upright. They listened to the cat rustle around and then Tony’s head popped out the opening. Steve grinned in amusement.

“Spend money on a bunch of high end toys, and all he wants to do is play with the bag,” muttered Clint, crunching on some veggies chips. The TV loudly declared Natasha the winner of the video game and the redhead tossed away the game controller to pay attention to where Tony’s tail was sticking out of the bag, waving around like a flag as the cat pawed and scratched at the bottom. 

Alice picked the seal open on a plastic tub and Tony’s head popped out of the bag again. “Here, this is freeze dried chicken,” she said, handing him a hunk of dried meat. Tony licked it up from her fingers and then fumbled his way out of the bag, trying to shove his face into the food tub. “Freeze dried chicken is a winner!” giggled Alice. (Put the tub on the floor and nobody loses a finger.) Tony licked his lips and the aid handed him a few more pieces. She pried open another tub and took a pinch of green herb out. “This is the catnip they had there. It’s supposed to be really high quality.” Tony gave the green stuff a sniff just to be polite. (Well, at least it smells better than the stuff in the other toys Clint had. This stuff doesn’t smell like mold.)

“I don’t think catnip works on Tony-kitty,” said Clint. He handed Natasha the bag of veggie chips. “We tried catnip toys already but he just turned his nose up at them. Spoiled brat.”

Alice sprinkled a little of the catnip on the floor and frowned. “The lady at the counter said this was really fresh. They dried the plants themselves on site. I know the cat I had at… well, the cat I used to have would only react to fresh leave from the plant. He didn’t like the dried stuff at all and …whoa!” She moved her hand away quickly as Tony crashed heavily onto his side in the pile of catnip and began to wiggle. Alice grinned. “Success!” Tony turned onto his back and began to knead the air.

Natasha sucked seasoning off her fingers while Clint pouted next to her. “Congratulations. You just succeeded in drugging your boss,” she said drily. Tony rolled to his feet and rubbed his cheeks into the catnip. (Catnip is awesome!) Tony thought muzzily. It was like the finest alcohol buzz he’d ever gotten and the best engineering high he’d ever experienced all rolled into one. His muscles were loose and warm and there was a faint tingling up between his eyes, like he’s snorted soda fizz up his nose by accident. He flopped around on top of the catnip like a landed fish. There was now a low thrum of pleasure making the tips of his paws prickle. Tony’s heart started to race and he flipped himself over and took off across the living room like he was exploding from a canon, leaping up on the cat tree and zipping up one side and down the other before taking off down the hallway to the library.

Steve stood with a worried look on his face. “Is he alright? Is that normal?” Tony came tearing out of the hallway, leapt an armchair, skidded across the coffee table, and leapt the other armchair before heading for the kitchen.

Alice shrugged, a huge grin on her face. “Looks about right to me. He’ll run himself out soon enough and fall asleep.” There was a crash in the kitchen and they all flinched. 

“What the hell?!” cried Bruce. There was a second rattle and Tony came racing out of the kitchen, skidding through the pile of catnip like it was a slip n’ slide, and made a wide circle of the room at top speed. Bruce stormed out of the kitchen. “What’s gotten into him?”

“Miss Hale gave Tony catnip,” Natasha replied calmly.

“Apparently the really expensive fresh dried organic crap works on him,” Clint grouched.

“Tony is going to be fine, right?” Steve asked again. “I’ve never seen him act like this before.”

“Yes you have. Only the manic energy is usually channeled into three day engineering binges and a night of bar and club hopping,” explained Natasha. “Jarvis, a quick scan if you could?” Tony was doing a series of hops and jumps across the living room until he came to the pile of catnip again and paused to have another good roll through the herb before bouncing off again like he was a rabbit.

“Of course, Miss Romanoff. Sir’s heart and respiration rates are understandable elevated but not dangerously so. I am detecting mild limbic system flaring in his brain, indicative of the pleasure centers of the brain being affected. My prognosis is that Sir is fine. The catnip is no more harming him than a couple of cans of energy drink and a pot of coffee do on a normal night.”

“Oh, good,” sighed Steve just as Tony flung himself over the couch and bounced off the coffee table.

Natasha nudged Clint with her elbow. “Go play with him before he hurts himself.” Clint perked up and snatched up a few fabric mice, flinging them into the air for Tony to leap after. Clint tossed them higher and higher until Steve warned him about dangerous stunts. Tony zipped around the couch and flopped around in the catnip before pouncing on a large pig shaped thing Clint tossed across the room. The plush pig was wrestled to the ground and Tony wrapped his front paws around it, using his back to kick. Soon the stuffing of the pig was peeking out and Clint was trying to pull it away before Tony could disembowel it completely. (No! My prey! It must die! Thief! Thief!) Tony howled as Clint dragged him across the floor, hanging onto the pig for dear life.

“Come on you tiny furry psycho! Let go!” yelled Clint. Bruce tossed a feathered bird thing, hoping to defuse the situation, and Tony’s attention on the pig derailed. The cat let go of the pig, snatched up the bird thing, and made for the library at top speed. Clint jumped to his feet and raced after the feline with a shout.

“No rough-housing in the library,” ordered Steve loudly. He was fairly sure Tony had removed anything of real value from the common floor after the first broken vase but he didn’t want to see all those books torn to shreds either. There was a loud clatter and Tony came racing out with the feathered bird thing in his mouth, a manic look in his eyes, and Clint hot on his heels. Natasha let out a playful pretend shriek as the cat leapt over her legs and shot up the cat tree to escape from Clint.

A small grey floor cleaner rolled out of its niche and began to vacuum up the catnip, beeping disapprovingly at Alice. “Sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Alice apologized, patting the bot’s casing. It buzzed at her like a bee and rolled back to its charging station. Alice chuckled and stood to wheel the other two carts into the kitchen and put away the last of the food. She left the tub of catnip and freeze dried chicken on the counter and returns to the living room just in time to see Tony flop over onto his side, obviously run out of energy. (That’s it. I’m dead. Dead. I see a bright light. Oh god! They’re here to take me! Remember me, my friends! Ugh. I’m pooped. I feel like I could drink a lake.) Alice walked over and scooped him up to cradle the cat in her arms. “Poor, poor boss kitty. Just think of this as revenge for me throwing up for a week in rehab.” She scratched at Tony’s cheek and the black bundle of fur purred weakly.

“Rehab?” Bruce asked gently but with obvious curiosity.

Alice shrugged. “Ran away from home, got hooked on drugs, Mr. Stark found me and sent my ass to rehab to dry out. Now I work for him while going to school for my Master’s degree.” She grinned wickedly. “For business. I’m going to be a Pepper Potts clone and rule the world.” Tony groaned in her arms, golden eyes unfocused and sleepy. (And you are my favorite minion.)

“Tony’s file says you saved his life,” commented Natasha absently.

“Miss Romanoff, may I remind you about the concept of private personal information?” Jarvis said, tone slightly scolding.

Natasha shrugged. “It’s in his file. The real, paper one. Not the one he constantly hacks SHIELD’s servers to mess with.”

Alice stroked down Tony’s side, the cat nearly unconscious, and sighed. “I had a shitty Dad and a shittier Mom. Ran away and met some boy on the streets that got me hooked on heroin. The boy liked to mug people for cash. Well, one night boss kitty wandered away from his minders during some shindig, drunk as a skunk and with Miss Potts trying to corral him back to the party. They’re both dressed up to the nines, so the boy decides they’d be good marks and demands Mr. Stark’s wallet and Miss Pott’s purse. Of course, boss kitty takes a swing at jerkwad boy and jerkwad boy pulls a switchblade and takes a swipe back.” The others are watching in fascination and Alice blushes a little. “I might have been coming down from a high and strung out as hell but I was still enough of myself to not cross that line. So, I decked the asshole.” Clint burst out in surprised laughter and that breaks the tension enough for Alice to smile. “Police got called and I spent the night in lockup with the shakes while the cops try in vain to contact my parents. In the morning, Mr. Stark shows up and gives me a choice; get clean and come work for him while going to school or get charged with attempted theft and drug use and end up in Juvie. I spent two weeks in rehab, throwing up and cursing Tony Stark to hell and back again. Now I buy breakfast cereal for superheroes and take accounting classes every other day.”

“I’m glad for you, Miss Alice,” said Steve with a smile. “You really made something of yourself and got yourself out of a bad situation. You should be very proud of yourself.” Alice blushed even harder.

“So, these shitty parents of yours,” drawled Clint casually. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they still lived, huh?”

“The matter of Miss Alice’s parents has already been taking care of, Agent Barton,” Jarvis announced.

Alice shrugged with a crooked grin. “Apparently when Tony Stark is really, really mad at you, very bad things happen to you. My parents will be in jail for a long time.” She stroked down Tony’s side, all the way down to his tail. The cat was limp in her arms and drooling slightly in his sleep. The aid walked over to Steve and shifted the sleeping cat into his arms, ignoring the blond’s bemused look. “Here, you take him. Boss kitty likes you best anyway.”

Steve snorted, cradling Tony against his chest. “I very much doubt that.”

“Steve, I once had to sit through an hour long dissertation on the color of your eyes. Trust me. Mr. Stark likes you best.”

“The color of Steve’s eyes?” asked Natasha, her eyebrow climbing.

“They are apparently as clear and blue as a summer’s sky and twice as lovely. He was very, very drunk at the time. I don’t think he remembers,” Alice replied. Steve looked godsmacked and turned red as a tomato, shifting stiffly. Alice slapped him on the shoulder, careful not to upset the cat he was holding. “Have fun with that. If you’ll excuse me, I have a 7pm class tonight. Ciao everybody!” Alice swanned to the elevator and gave everyone a knowing evil smile as the doors closed.

“I like her,” Clint announced when the aid was gone. “I think we should make her an honorary Avenger.”

“Seconded,” declared Natasha.

“Well, she did manage to take down Captain America,” Bruce agreed. “That is pretty impressive.” Steve was kind of staring in shock at the elevator doors. Tony snored in his arms, limp and zonked out from the catnip. “I think Alice broke him.”

“I’m fine,” Steve said, shaking himself and rolling his eyes. He sat on the couch and shifted Tony around in his lap. “How can she say Tony likes me best? We’re better than we used to be but I’m not Tony’s favorite person.”

“I don’t know why you think Tony doesn’t like you,” Natasha said. “We all got off on a rocky start and there was that whole Howard thing between you and him.” Natasha made a face in remembrance of those screaming matches and following icy silences. “But Tony likes you just fine now. He’s gotten a chance to know you and I dare say he’s rather attached. He slept in your bed last night Steve. He specifically sought you out for comfort. I’d say Tony likes you a great deal.”

Tony twitched in Steve’s lap and curled up into a ball with a sigh. Steve settled his hand gently on the cat’s side, feeling the small furry body breath slowly. “I like Tony too. But don’t you think we’re too different? I mean, we’re always arguing and on opposite side of everything. It doesn’t sound like a great foundation for a long lasting friendship,” Steve said drily. 

“And why not?” demanded Bruce. “Where is it law that friends have to agree all the time? Besides, you guys don’t argue like you used to. You used to shout at each other with actual anger and irritation. Now you argue, well, like friends.”

“Tony teases you more than anything nowadays,” Clint added. “He’s not trying to rip you apart with his words like he used to. It’s different.”

“Kind of like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails because he likes her,” Natasha observed, seemingly paying more attention to the episode guide on the TV screen she was scrolling through than the conversation.

Steve stilled and then chuckled tightly. “I don’t know about that,” he said with forced amusement. Natasha and Clint shared a look while Bruce rolled his eyes slightly. “So, what are we going to do for dinner?” Steve asked overly brightly.

They ended up having chicken nuggets and French fries because it was easy and quick and they were feeling a little too tired, a little too bruised deep inside, after the failure at turning Tony back into a human and anything more complicated was beyond them at the moment. They dragged out the barbeque sauce and ketchup and ate on paper plates in an effort not to generate anymore dirty dishes. Tony ate some fries and a plate of beef pâté, licking up the meaty sauce with quick flashes of his pink tongue. Natasha and Clint had some beers while Bruce and Steve drank cream sodas. Bruce didn’t see the point of drinking when he couldn’t even get buzzed and Steve didn’t like the taste of most of the beer made today.

Everyone was surprised when Clint broke out into a big yawn, which set Bruce off next. “Ugh,” the archer complained after he managed to close his mouth. “Long day.”

“Long week,” countered Bruce, rubbing at his eyes. Tony licked at a paw. (You think you buttheads are tired, try being almost pulled apart and then drugged loopy. Christ, I could sleep for a week.) He joined in on the yawning, fangs flashing. They tossed their trash in the bin and wandered back to the living room.

Steve sat on the couch with a tired sigh. Tony jumped up onto his lap like it was no big deal, settling down like he’d been doing so forever. Steve petted along the cat’s side automatically. “Movie or TV show?” asked Natasha, curling up on the other end of the couch.

“I don’t think it matters,” murmured Bruce.

“Jarvis, play whatever,” Clint ordered, collapsing onto the loveseat. The TV turned on but nobody was really paying it any attention. It was just moving pictures and sound that filled the silence so they didn’t have to work up the energy to talk and that was good enough.

Eventually, the credits for whatever they just watched rolled and Bruce levered himself up from his slump in the armchair. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up for anything less than the world ending,” the scientist muttered, shuffling toward the private elevator. Clint and Steve grunted at him while Natasha flapped a lazy hand in acknowledgement.

“Wanna play another video game, Nat?” asked Clint.

“No. I want a foot rub and a bubble bath,” Natasha replied. She flopped over onto her other side and reached out to grab Tony’s tail, gently tugging to get the feline’s attention. One golden eye opened to sleepily look at the redhead. “Bedtime, kотёнок,” Natasha announced, just as she had last night. “Do you want to sleep with me or stay with Steve again?”

“I don’t know about Tony staying with me again,” Steve said uneasily. “Maybe he should spend the night with someone else every night?” Tony made a little growly sound and dropped his head meaningful back onto Steve’s lap, flicking his tail out of Natasha’s grasp. (I’m going to pretend you didn’t just try to pimp me out, Stevie. I’m staying with you. You’re my favorite human furnace.)

Natasha chuckled and stood, patting Steve on the shoulder. “I don’t think Tony wants to stay with anybody else. Looks like you’re stuck with him, Steve.” The blond gave the cat a complicated look, his eyebrows drawing down. The redhead whacked Clint’s leg as she walked past. “Come on, Clint. You’re giving me a foot rub.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Clint complained. He rolled off the loveseat and followed Natasha to the elevator anyway. “Goodnight, Tony-kitty. Night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, guys,” called Steve, angling his head over the couch to look in their direction. Tony meowed in response.

The elevator doors closed and the carriage began to rise. “Like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails because he likes her!?” snapped Clint. “Did you really say that to him?”

“I was trying to push Steve into reacting!” Natasha snapped back. “I didn’t think he’d backtrack like that.”

“Do you think he’s actually uncomfortable with his feelings for Tony?” Clint asked. The elevator opened onto Natasha’s floor and they exited. “He could be homophobic. He is from the 40’s after all.”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with Agent Hall and Mr. Williams and they practically spend every lunch hour making out in the kitchen on level 6. Of course, it could be he just hasn’t accepted himself having feelings for another man but I don’t get that vibe from Steve. He’s never been the type of person to reject love or friendship because of a little thing like gender.” Natasha entered her small kitchen and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. She tilted the bottle at Clint and the archer nodded. She poured two glasses and handed one over. “I think this is more that Steve is becoming aware that his feelings might have a chance and he doesn’t know how to deal with that.”

Clint nodded, downing his drink. “He’s used to just repressing his feelings and ignoring them. If Tony returns those feelings, especially if Pepper breaks up with him, then a relationship between them might be possible. Us teasing him about Tony liking him best probably made him nervous.” He wandered over to the couch and sat. “Do you think Steve could still be hung up over that Carter chick?”

“No doubt,” Natasha said, pouring herself another drink and putting the bottle back in the freezer. “He’ll always be hung up over Peggy Carter. If Steve has to deal with his feeling for Tony instead of just ignoring them, then he’s going to have problems giving up that great ideal he’s got in his head. If Pepper breaks up with Tony and if Tony can get himself together enough to realize he also has feelings for Steve, then he’s going to hate it if Steve drags the specter of his first love into the courtship. Fuck, what a mess.”

“That is a lot of ifs,” groaned Clint. “Tony could also clam up if Pepper breaks up with him and just shut down. If Steve professed his feelings then, he’d just run up against a brick wall. I doubt Tony would even respond to him then.”

Natasha collapsed onto the couch. “I don’t even know if Pepper is actually going to break up with Tony. She could decide to tough it out and try and make it work.”

Clint rolled his head to look at her. “But you think she’s going to break up with Tony.”

“Yeah. She’s in a lot of pain and I think she’s smart enough to protect herself. She can’t be both Tony’s friend and his lover. The problem then, is how Tony will react. If he folds in on himself then nothing Steve does will get through to him and that is going to really hurt Steve. I don’t know. Steve could chicken out and keep his feelings to himself no matter what happens. There are just too many variables to tell at this point.” Natasha gave a frustrated growl and swung her feet up into Clint’s lap. 

He cocked his eyebrow. “Something you want?”

“I want that foot rub, buster,” Natasha demanded, poking Clint in the stomach with her toes. “Get to it.”

Clint rolled his eyes and wrapped his fingers around the redhead’s ankle. “You’re lucky I’m scared of you.” Natasha just smiled beatifically and dropped her head back on the armrest.

(**)

Steve let his head rest on the back of the couch as the elevator door closed, whisking Natasha and Clint away. He absently rubbed at one of Tony’s fuzzy triangle shaped ears, which, honestly, felt kind of ticklish to the cat. The blond sighed and Tony looked up at Steve’s chin in concern. (You okay there Steve? That was a big sigh and your face is all thinky and tense.) He licked at Steve’s thumb with his rough tongue and Steve lifted his head to look down at him. His eyebrows were drawn down low and his eyes were a stormy blue Tony was not used to seeing outside of battle. (And now I can’t tell if you’re angry or just worried. What has gotten into you? Is it because we couldn’t turn me back today? It’s okay. We’ll try again and… whoa!)

Tony scrambled a little as Steve stood suddenly. The blond curled his arms about the cat and held him against his chest as he walked to the elevator. Tony looked up at Steve’s preoccupied face and his ears drooped. (Are you annoyed? Because you kind of look annoyed. Or is that aggravated? Is there a difference?) The elevator opened on Steve’s floor and he walked across the living room and into the bedroom. Tony meowed up at him in concern. Steve looked down and gave him a half smile, curling his fingers up to rub under the cat’s chin. He then placed Tony gently on his bed. Tony licked his nose as Steve kicked off his shoes. (Do you not want me to spend the night with you? You don’t look like you want any company right now. I can go sleep with Natasha? I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just to sleep. Or I could go back downstairs and sleep in the cat tree?)

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Steve announced. “Back in a jiff.” The blond went into the bathroom and shut the door. Tony scowled. (Or I can go sleep in my own bed because I am a goddamned adult, even if I am a little short and furry at the moment.) Tony jumped down and strode purposefully toward the elevator. But the idea of sleeping alone or outside of the carpeted house in the cat tree did not excite Tony. It was too open, too exposed. It needled some buried instinct to sleep unprotected and Tony honestly didn’t know if it was the cat part of him or just his normal paranoia made worse by being small and pretty helpless. He made it half way across the living room before turning around and heading back to the bedroom.

Tony jumped back on top of the bed and sat facing the bathroom door. (I’m being ridiculous.) He jumped back off and made it as far as the doorway before going back to the bed. (Christ. I am pathetic, is what I am.) The cat settled on the bottom corner of the bed and thankfully the water in the bathroom shut off before Tony could change his mind again. Tony stayed quiet as Steve emerged from the bathroom in shorts and a grey t-shirt.

Steve gave the black cat a quick rub between the ears and then climbed into bed. “Night Tony. Sleep tight.” Tony meowed quietly in response as Steve settled onto his side. Cautiously, unsure of his welcome, Tony curled up next to Steve’s feet. He really hoped he didn’t end up smashed against the blond’s face come morning. It had been embarrassing enough the first time. Steve didn’t react and Tony laid his head down and tried to relax enough to sleep.

It was not quite dawn, the sky still completely dark, when Tony startled awake. He was stretched out along Steve’s legs, his belly against the blond’s knees. He blinked sleepily, confused as to what had woken him. Steve was motionless and breathing gently. Then the shock happened again and Tony fumbled to his feet. He shook his head hard, his ears itching and ringing like crazy. It was a thousand times worse than when someone turned him upside down. 

“Tony?” asked Steve, woken by the bed jolting. He turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the cat shaking his head and pawing at his ears. “Oh my god. Tony? Is something wrong? What the matter?” He grabbed for Tony when the cat started to dig at his ears with his back feet. “Stop! You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sir? Captain? It appears as if…” Jarvis started to announce. His voice suddenly dissolved into static. The entire room rattled and the bedside lamp flickered.

“Are we under attack?” demanded Steve. The big standing radio in the living room blared a quick earsplitting screech that made both of them jump. Then the rattling stopped and the lamplight brightened to normal.

“What a most unpleasant sensation,” Jarvis said in displeasure, back to normal. “As I was saying, it appears the Bifrost is manifesting above the Tower. The rooftop cameras show that Thor has returned and has brought a guest with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter got long. Just shy of 10k. But I didn't want to stop until I finally got Thor back to Earth.
> 
> Please, please, if you see a mistake, mention it in the comments or something so I can fix it. I've looked at this thing six ways from Sunday but I'm sure there are still things wrong.
> 
> Everyone in the Marvel Universe is fair game. 
> 
> Illyana Rasputin, aka Magik, is a mutant kidnaped as a child and raised in Limbo and trained to use her magic by various demons. She does appear on Earth as part of the New Mutants, which is what I’m referencing here. I’ve never read those comics, so characterization is completely my imagination. All the other characters I mention in passing come from the comics also.


	17. SEVENTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I was distracted by another project.
> 
> In the last chapter, Thor and 'a guest' have arrived back on Earth.

What followed was a mad dash for the elevator as everyone tried to get up to the roof and Thor and his guest tried to get down from the roof. Then Steve used his Captain America voice and ordered everybody down to the common floor by way of the stairs so that those on the roof could use the elevator. Tony raced through Steve’s kitchen to where a cabinet was sliding forward and to the side, revealing a set of emergency stairs. The feline then hurried to the top step and paused. The steps suddenly looked monstrous from his perspective. (Okay. Four legs. How does this work? Is it front feet first and then the back? I guess I could go down sideways. Umm.) Tony placed a paw on the next step down and could feel his balance waver crazily. He pulled back and meowed loudly in distress, the sound echoing down the stairwell. (Help! I’m a cat and I have too many legs!)

“Tony-kitty?” Clint’s voice called back.

Steve appeared in the doorway, hastily tucking his shirt into his pants. “I got him,” Steve’s called. “Come on, you goofball.” He scooped Tony up into his arms and hurried down the stairs easily, much to Tony annoyance. (I would have figured it out eventually.)

They assembled on the common floor in just enough time for the elevator to open. “My friends!” boomed Thor with a wide smile. He was in his armor and carrying a large chest on one shoulder. “It is good to be back. I’m sorry for the delay. There were some … issues with obtaining permission.” Thor’s face darkened like a cloud across the sun and then just as quickly brightened again. A woman stood regally next to him, her blond hair done up in artful twists and wearing a steely blue dress.

“We’re just glad to have to you back, Thor,” said Steve.

“Aye. I had hoped to return sooner but it was out of my control,” Thor said a bit sourly. He shrugged the chest from his shoulder and set it down on the floor before turning to the woman next to him. “May I present my lady Mother, Queen Frigga.”

“Uh. Welcome, Queen Frigga,” Steve said, bowing awkwardly. Bruce and Natasha followed suit. Natasha reached back and grabbed Clint’s shirt collar, yanking him into a bow when the archer was stuck staring. (Oh. Uh. Crap.) Tony lowered his head in the best bow he could manage with a tail and extra legs.

Frigga smiled warmly. “Just Frigga will do. I am very glad to be here. Thor told me that Loki had been up to mischief again and had turned one of you into a cat.” She looked down at Tony and the feline fidgeted. (Yeah. I’m the one that opened his big mouth and got whammed, your majesty. I mean, Frigga.) Frigga’s smile dropped into a confused frown. “Most strange. I can hear him but it sounds like mere gibberish.”

“I had the same problem, Mother. It seems Loki’s spell work was not as exact as it usually is,” said Thor.

“Uh, what?” Clint asked.

“With the gift of the Allspeak, we should be able to understand Tony no matter his form, but when my brother turned him into a cat I was unable to understand a thing he said,” Thor explained. “It seems my Mother is having the same difficulty.”

“How unlike Loki to leave a spell incomplete. We could understand Fandral when he was turned into a feline,” said Frigga. Tony’s ears drooped. (So much for easy communication.) Frigga knelt and beckoned to the cat. “Come here, Lord Stark, so I may examine the spell on you more closely.” Tony puffed his chest up. (She called me a lord.) Tony fluffed his whiskers up at his friends and trotted over to the woman.

“We had another magic user take a look at Tony,” explained Bruce. “She said the spell was particularly messy and chaotic. She unfortunately couldn’t undo Loki’s spell.” Tony gave a little shudder at the remembered pain of that failed attempt.

“Yes, I can see the fractures where the other witch tried to remove the spell by force,” Frigga muttered with her eyes closed. She hovered her hand over Tony’s head for a long moment. Then she gently lowered her hand down and ran her palm from head to tail. Tony went pliant, a sense of peace falling over him. He lay down and began to purr loudly as Frigga stroked down his spine. (This is nice.) Tony thought muzzily. Frigga opened her eyes and smiled down at the cat. “Yes, I think I see the way of it. It will take some preparation, but I believe I can remove the spell from Lord Stark.” Everyone looked relieved at the queen’s announcement. “I will require a place to work.”

They ensconced Frigga in the library. Thor carried the chest like it weighted nothing and the visiting queen laid her books and scrolls across a table. Bruce made her tea, which Frigga declared was delightful. Clint climbed up the shelves and perched near the ceiling to observe the woman from afar. Natasha paced the hallway, curious but wary. Tony sprawled out in Frigga’s lap like the shameless hussy he was and purred as she scratched at his ears. Thor gave him an indulgent smile.

Steve fixed an early breakfast. The sun was just coming up on the horizon and the less enhanced members of the team were still yawning but everyone knew they wouldn’t be heading back to bed. Thor cornered Steve in the kitchen as he was stirring a pan of scrambled eggs. “I apologize for the delay, Steve. I had wished to be back here sooner with aid,” the god said solemnly.

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “What held you up?”

“The AllFather is of the opinion that Midgardian matters should be taken care of by Midgard,” Thor said, distaste coloring his tone. “Even when the problem is of Asgardian creation. He did not want to send aid or, indeed, even allow me to return to Midgard.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, his face struggling to remain impassive. “He must have many concerns as a king,” he said eventually.

Thor snorted. “You speak very diplomatically. It was only when my Mother reminded my Father that we were still paying wergild for Loki’s involvement in the Battle of New York and that we did not need any more ill will between our worlds that he relented.”

“It was nice of your Mother to come personally.”

“She is the most accomplished of our magic users. Indeed, my Mother taught Loki many things herself. If anyone can unravel the spell placed upon Tony, it will be she.” Thor helped carry plates of eggs, fried potatoes, and buttered toast to the others. Normally Steve would insist they eat in the kitchen but didn’t want to interrupt Frigga’s perusal of her books. He offered her a plate and the queen looked thrilled to try Midgardian food.

Tony slipped from Frigga’s lap and slunk over to the next chair, meowing up at Steve until he put the plate of cat food in front of him. He finished his food and jumped off the chair to wash his paws and whiskers underneath the table out of sight. He figured it was rude to bath yourself in front of a queen even if you were furry and four legged.

“Is there anything else we can get you, Frigga?” asked Steve politely.

“I have heard much about a hot morning breakfast drink called ‘coffee’,” Frigga mused. “I would love to have some if you have it.” Tony’s whiskers fluffed. (Woman after my own heart.)

“I can make a pot. It’s no problem, Frigga,” Steve replied with a smile. He gathered up the dirty plates and headed out of the library. Tony felt panic swamp him and dashed out from under the table to where Natasha was now lounging on an armchair with a good view of the door and their guest. The cat danced up on his back legs to paw at the redhead’s knee and meow loudly. (Tasha! We have to stop Steve! He’s going to serve Frigga a cup of Folgers! We can’t serve her that swill! She needs the good coffee! Quick, head him off at the pass!)

Natasha cocked an eyebrow down at the cat and then levered herself up out of the armchair. “What’s his problem?” asked Clint as Tony hurried out of the library.

Natasha shrugged. “No clue. I’ll go see what he wants.” She followed Tony to the kitchen and snickered when the cat scrambled up onto the counter to paw at the espresso machine and howl like a banshee.

Steve was standing in front of the regular drip coffee pot with a surprised look on his face. “What is he going on about?”

“I think Tony wants to serve Frigga a better cup of coffee than instant,” replied Natasha. Steve gave the shiny cooper machine a flat look. Natasha pushed Tony away from the machine and turned it on. “Here, I’ll do it.” While Steve could use the espresso machine, it required supervision from Jarvis and took forever.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Coffee snobs,” he muttered. Tony tipped his nose in the air. (Plebeian.)

Natasha tapped down the coffee grounds and pushed it into place on the machine. “Grab the milk for me, would you Steve.” She steamed the milk, which was loud enough to flatten Tony’s ears to his head, and poured the drink into a glass mug. Natasha then swished a leaf pattern on top. “Not bad. I haven’t done coffee art in years.” Tony meowed, pushing a saucer over with his paw. (Looks good. I would serve that to a queen and not die of embarrassment.)

Frigga loved the coffee and sipped it with a smile as she made notes on a scrap piece of paper and searched her books. “How come you never fuss over our coffee like that?” complained Clint as he saw the fancy coffee the visiting queen was drinking. Tony snorted at him. (Like I care what you lowlifes drink.)

The rest of the morning proceeded like that. Tony spent some time using Thor’s cape as a dark and dangerous cave, the blond godling chuckling above him as the cat pawed and pounced at imaginary foes and errant wrinkles. He tested his claws against Thor’s armor and poked curiously at the metal. He stopped doing that when the static got so bad his fur was standing on end, little blue sparks flying all over. “My apologies, little friend,” said Thor, scooping Tony up with a big hand under his belly. He set the cat in his lap and ran a hand down his back. Little blue lightning bolts lifted off Tony’s black fur and crackled up Thor’s forearm. The static was bled away. (Thanks, big guy.) Tony licked at his shoulder to smooth his fur down.

The feline yawned and wandered off to fall asleep on a sunny chair cushion. Clint snoozed on top of the shelf he was perched on. Natasha gave it another hour and then left to go about her own business. She’d peek into the library about every half an hour just to check up on everyone. Bruce went off somewhere. Tony heard the TV in the living room turn on and assumed he was watching the news or something. Thor remained in the library to attend to his mother, pulling books out of the chest and returning used materials. Steve sat by the window and scratched at a sketchbook.

They had lunch. Steve and Clint set up an assembly line of sandwich making in the kitchen while Tony moaned to himself from his stool at the kitchen island. (I should have called down to the Tower kitchen and had something prepared. I can’t believe I’m serving cold sandwiches and potato chips to a queen. My Italian ancestors must be rolling in their graves.) Tony watched Steve spread mayo on a piece of white bread and pass it on to Clint to pile turkey, lettuce, and tomato on top. (We’ll need something to drink.) Tony flicked his ear and swished his tail. “Sir?” asked Jarvis. The cat waved a paw, swiveled his ears, and chittered. “I’m sorry, Sir. You want me to get what?” (Ugh!) It was too complicated a concept to convey with butt shakes and ear flicks. Tony jumped from his stool and raced into the living room, leaping up onto the coffee table and pawing at a tablet computer there. It was an utter pain to tap on the screen with his paws but he managed to pick out the words ‘goopd winne’ and hoped his AI was as intelligent as he hoped he was. “Ah. Yes. I will have Chef Robert send up a few suitable bottles from the wine cellar,” Jarvis replied. (That’s my boy. I knew you’d understand.)

Alice brought up a cart with several buckets of ice and a couple of bottles of 15 year old Domaine red wine. “This good enough, boss kitty?” asked the aid. Tony nodded and awkwardly tapped on the computer tablet until she understood he wanted the good wine goblets brought down from the penthouse. Alice and Natasha went up the elevator and brought back 6 cut crystal wine goblets.

Clint let out a low whistle when he saw them. “These must have a pretty penny,” he said, lifting one of the glasses up to the light. It sparkled and glowed. (They have been in my Mother’s family for 4 generations! Put it down!) Tony yowled and Natasha delicately plucked the glass from Clint’s hands. The archer pouted. Steve hefted a big platter of sandwiches balanced on one palm and took it to the library. Natasha and Clint grabbed the bowls of chips while Alice brought up the rear with the wine and the cart.

“Lunch time!” announced Steve.

“Ah, the midday meal,” exclaimed Thor with enthusiasm. Food was guaranteed to at least get the godling’s attention no matter what. 

Frigga looked up with a smile. “I am sorry to make you carter to myself without notice. You are very gracious to provide food.”

“It’s nothing. We’re just grateful for the help. It’s just sandwiches, nothing fancy, but I think Tony had some really great wine brought up,” Steve replied with a sheepish look. Natasha nudged Alice, who was staring at the queen in her long dress and armored bodice in fascination. Alice jumped and blushed, tugging at her black Stark Industries polo shirt self-consciously. She then gathered herself and poured the wine into the goblets carefully.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Alice said politely as she gently set the crystal goblet in front of Frigga. She then retreated to the cart to pour the rest of the glasses and hand them out. She gave Clint a narrow eyed look as she handed him a goblet. “If you break this, I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark will hunt you down and kill you even if he is small and furry.”

Clint grinned and gulped down the glass. “Ho! That’s rich,” he gasped, smacking his lips.

“It does have a most delightful body and aroma to it,” Frigga commented, swirling her goblet gently.

“Aye. As good as any drink I’ve had in Asgard!” added Thor. Tony ducked his head. (Aw. Now you’re just exaggerating.)

Alice did another round of goblet filling, even Steve having a glass. She fiddled with the cart and then crouched down by Tony. “You owe me a bonus, boss kitty. I don’t remember visiting alien royalty being anywhere in my contract,” she murmured stressfully. Tony patted at her knee with a paw. (You did good, Alice. I see a new car in your future.) He meowed softly at her. The aid huffed and scratched between the cat’s ears before grabbing a ham and cheese sandwich and going back to the kitchen for more sour cream and onion potato chips. 

After lunch, Frigga returned to studying her books and Tony sprang up on her lap for a nap. Maybe it was the wine goblets that pulled up her memory or maybe it was Frigga herself, goddess of mothers, who summoned up the dream with her presence, but Tony dreamed of lilac perfume and warm brown eyes. A lullaby in Italian was sung sweetly as Tony struggled to focus on the misty form of the woman hovering over him. “Fa la ninna bel bambin, fa la nanna bambin bel,” sang the voice softly. A familiar face smiled down at him in a way he couldn’t remember his mother looking at him when he was older. He tried to reach up but his fingers were fat and clumsy. Maria’s dark hair swished over one shoulder as she tilted her head. “Fa la ninna, fa la nanna, nella braccia della mamma.” The image fractured apart and Tony woke with a start.

Frigga rested a hand on his side and Tony jerked his head up. “Calm,” she muttered. “It was merely a dream. Be calm.” Tony nervously licked his nose and twitched. Unsettled, he fumbled his way off Frigga’s lap. He crouched under the table and shivered, feeling torn open. Tony had dreamed of his parents before but it was mostly after their death and he’d never dreamed of his mother like that. There were no gentle smiles and soft lullabies when Tony had been a child. He remembered his mother as distant and vague, a woman increasingly depressed as her marriage fell apart and muddled with prescription drugs and alcohol. When she did turn her attention to her son she often had violent mood swings that scared a younger Tony and then later Maria had wanted little to do with her teenage son. Sometimes Tony thought she didn’t even recognize him the way she stared at him with wide, empty eyes. He did not want to think that maybe at one point his mother had cared for him more than the detached way she had interacted with her child when Tony was older. It made him feel cheated and robbed somehow.

Tony slunk out from under the table and crept along a couch, belly low to the ground. He then slithered his way up into Steve’s lap, shoving his furry body under the blond’s sketchbook. “Well, hello to you too,” muttered Steve, the jostling causing a pencil mark to jerk off to the side. Tony wedged himself firmly and Steve sighed, rearranging his sketchbook and dropping one hand to stroke down the cat’s back. The blond frowned. “Are you okay? You’re tense.” Tony flicked his tail up and wrapped it around his side, curling into a tight ball in Steve’s lap. Steve rubbed behind his ears, a sure fire way to gain a purr, but Tony remained quiet and still. “Hey, what’s wrong?” asked Steve, hitching up his leg so Tony’s face was tilted toward him. The golden eyes closed and the cat tucked his head down against Steve’s thigh. The blond sighed and stroked his big palm over Tony’s ribs. Soon the scratching of his pencil started up again, soothing Tony with its rhythm. 

Tony’s feelings about his parents had been neatly stuffed in a mental box he’d successfully ignored for his adult life and he shoved the tangle of feelings the dream had dredged up into the same little box. Nothing good ever came from thinking about his parents. Clint came in after that, obvious boredom on his face, and attempted to coax Tony into playing with some of the cat toys. Tony was having none of it, feeling just fine sitting on Steve’s lap. Clint groaned and flopped onto his back on the big Persian rug. He tossed the fabric mouse up into the air and caught it one handed. “I am so bored I’d even welcome another alien invasion if it meant something to do,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you find something to read?” suggested Steve absently. “You’re in a library after all. There is plenty to choose from.” At the table, Frigga closed the book was she using and Thor replaced it in the chest they’d brought from Asgard. Thor placed a bundle of scrolls on the table next and Frigga frowned over them one by one.

Clint turned to look at the numerous shelves as if his head weighted a ton. “Meh. Anything good, Jarvis?”

“Given your preferences for television shows and movies, I believe the shelf third to your left will yield something you would enjoy,” replied the AI. Clint rolled over with a groan and inch wormed his way over to the indicated shelf.

Frigga blinked and looked around. “I take it this is Lord Stark’s bodiless servant?”

“Yes, Queen Frigga. I am Jarvis.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Master Jarvis.” Frigga gave her son a warm smile. “You are right, Thor. Midgard does hold many wonders.” Thor grinned wide, seemingly pleased with his mother’s good opinion of his friends. 

Tony felt Steve’s sketchbook thump against the back of his head and pushed back. “Sorry,” muttered the blond, shifting slightly to rest the sketchbook on the arm of the chair. The cat looked over to see a detailed drawing of Queen Frigga sitting at the table. Steve seemed to be paying a great deal of attention to the drape of her dress and the delicate scrolling on the bodice and metalwork curling over her shoulders. Tony watched the precise movement of Steve’s pencil and allowed the warmth of his lap and the steady scratching sounds to calm the last of his upset. The dream faded from his mind.

Clint was stretched out behind the sofa, only his feet visible, and was either dead or had found something to read. Bruce came by to check on them. He brought some soda that caused Frigga to sneeze and cough as the fizz tickled her nose. Thor downed his can in one huge gulp like a pro and let out a burp. Natasha had pretzeled herself into an armchair with her laptop computer and was clacking softly on the keyboard at a rapid fire pace. She could be hacking a secret government database or she could be playing space invaders; either was possible.

“I think I am ready for the parchment, Thor,” Frigga announced late in the afternoon.

Thor looked relieved. “Have you found something that will help my friend?” he asked, fetching a flat case from the chest and setting it on the table. Everyone in the room perked up, attention swinging to the Asgardians.

“I believe I have devised a way to turn Lord Stark back into his proper form,” Frigga replied. “I must create the sigils first.”

Steve’s hand dropped to Tony’s furry head and rubbed at his ears. “That’s great, Frigga. Thank you so much for the help.” Tony meowed in agreement as Steve squished his right ear down with his petting.

Frigga gave a regal nod and a warm smile. “It is the least I can do for the trouble Loki has caused you.” From the case she pulled sheets of fine pressed parchment paper and began to slowly, carefully draw lines upon the paper with, of all things, a quill and a bottle of black ink. The black lines twisted and swirled across the paper in graceful patterns. Frigga paused frequently to consult her notes and worked with the skill and attention only a master could achieve. Steve watched in fascination, even after the other’s interest had waned and they’d gone back to doing other things.

Clint giggled from behind the couch and Tony’s tail twitched. A giggling Clint never meant anything good. The cat slipped from Steve’s lap, who wasn’t even paying the feline any attention anyway, and walked around the couch. The archer jerked a little in surprise when Tony walked up his leg, over his butt, and up his back. Tony placed two feet on Clint’s head and leaned over to look at what he was reading. The colorful pages of a graphic novel stared up at him. Tony huffed. (I should have known. Where did that thing even come from?)

“Hey, you’re a little heavy, Tony-kitty,” Clint said, nodding his head to upset Tony’s balance. “Do you mind? I’m trying to read here.” Tony grumbled and settled in the small of Clint’s back, doing his best impression of a loaf of bread. The cat dozed, Clint’s giggles bumping him around every so often. At one point, Tony was aware that Natasha had gotten up and left the library. When she returned a couple of minutes later, she rounded the couch, mouth open to speak, when she caught sight of Clint and Tony. She closed her mouth, left again, and then reappeared with a camera. Tony squinted his eyes against the flash and sighed. (I hate my so-called friends.)

The sun sank in the sky and the shadows lengthened across the library floor. Tony was beginning to wonder if dinner would be soon when Frigga announced she was finished. She had a neat stack of inked pages on the table. Tony jumped off Clint and hurried around the couch, his heart speeding up with anticipation and no little amount of fear. Frigga stood and smoothed down her dress. “I will need a large area in which to set up the pattern and then we may attempt the spell,” she announced.

(The living room will do. The floor is already ruined from the last spell. Might as well make it a matched set.) The cat led the way out of the library and into the living room, sitting on the floor and meowing up at them. Frigga looked around and nodded. “This will do. Lord Stark, if you would be so kind as to sit in the middle? You must be in the center of the pattern. I will work around you,” the queen instructed. Tony settled nervously where she had pointed, licking his whiskers. The anxiety in the room jumped sky high. Thor and Natasha looked outwardly calm but Steve was plainly worried and concerned. The blond was tense and watched Frigga’s every move as the queen knelt in front of Tony. Even Clint was shifting nervously and Bruce had taken off his glasses to polish them on his shirt tails, an apprehensive gesture that usually had Tony trying to calm the other man down.

Frigga placed one of the parchment pages in front of Tony and gently rested a fingertip on it. She said a single word Tony did not recognize in a low, hypnotic voice and the page briefly shimmered before sucking to the wooden floor like it had been glued there, the edges flat and smooth. Frigga repeated this to both sides of the cat and behind him. She then added more pages around Tony until he was surrounded by four rings of sigils. The feline fought to keep still, trapping his tail under his paws so it wouldn’t twitch in agitation and sweep across the pages. Frigga stood and came around to the front, face calm and assuring. “I will begin,” she announced. She then closed her eyes and raised both arms out in front of herself, palms toward the floor.

Now, Frigga spoke a language that was lyrical and with soft peaks, sounding like one stream of sound. The sigil directly in front of her lit up with gold light. She moved to the next page and repeated the action until the outside ring of parchment was glowing a soft gold. Frigga took a deep breath and worked around the ring again, the second layer of sigils starting to glow. The suspense was killing Tony and he could feel himself getting tenser and tenser as Frigga lit each sigil until all of them were glowing a soft gold. His teammates were in similar distress and Clint was twisting his t-shirt into a knot in front of his belly while Steve looked like he was going to vibrate apart.

Frigga came to stand in front again, the pinched corners of her mouth showing how strenuous the spell was for her. “Mother?” muttered Thor in concern.

“I am fine, Thor,” Frigga replied, straightening. “I suggest you take a deep breath, Lord Stark, and hold it. The spell is about to be activated.” Tony nodded and sucked in air, trying to stay as still as possible. Frigga began to speak again in a steady chanting tone, sweeping her hands through the air. The outer ring of gold bled inwards, hopping from sigil to sigil. Tony squeezed his eyes shut as the pages nearest to him lit up like suns and then the gold bled over the cat.

Tony expected pain and braced himself but instead warmth traveled through his bones. His sense of up and down flipped, which was faintly nauseating. Then it was like strong fingers were giving his body the best massage ever and his limps were being gently pulled and manipulated as if he was at a chiropractor getting an adjustment. Little tingles danced up his back. He felt his joints pop and he felt faintly like something deep inside of him was itching.

Outside the sphere of golden light, Frigga continued to chant. She curved her hand up in the air and flicked her fingers like she was playing a piano. The hem of Frigga’s dress crackled with energy and Natasha and Steve shifted in discomfort as their ears began to buzz. Bruce winced and rubbed at his nose like he was fighting a sneeze. The used sigils were burnt and blackened on the floor. After a long minute, Frigga swept her hands down and spoke a sharp word. The sphere of golden light cracked apart like an egg and the pieces spun out and dissolved in the air. Frigga took a step back and Thor reached to support her as she swayed. She patted at her son’s hand. “I’m fine, Thor. Fine.”

Clint gave a happy cry while Steve and Bruce sighed in relief. Tony looked up from the floor and blink dazedly. Back in human form, the dark haired man knelt in the center of the used sigils. The arc reactor glowed a reassuring blue in his chest and Tony reached up to brush some hair out of his eyes. He was also as naked as the day he was born. “Oh,” muttered Steve, quickly directing his gaze up toward the ceiling. A blush climbed up the blond’s throat. Clint grinned suggestively while Bruce rolled his eyes.

Natasha strode to the sofa and grabbed the blanket. She swished it around Tony’s shoulders and settled it over his nude body like a cape. “I’m glad you’re back to normal, kotëhok,” she muttered while she was close. Tony grinned up at her and Natasha frowned a little, thinking his canine teeth were more pointed than she remembered.

“How do you feel, Tony?” asked Bruce.

Tony opened his mouth but all that came out was, “Meow.” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Meow!” Fear crept into his eyes. (No no no no no! I can’t talk!) “Meow!”

“Aw crap,” muttered Clint.

“What’s wrong?” Steve demanded, dropping his eyes to look worriedly at Tony.

Tony huffed up at him. “Meow!” Then his nose wrinkled and he let out a big sneeze. Up popped two triangle shaped ears on top of his head.

“Well, that’s not right,” Clint said, bemused. 

The back of the blanket moved and Natasha lifted it up to find a long, sleek black tail lashing in agitation. She lifted the blanket a little higher and followed the tail with her eyes up to the base of Tony’s spine and bare butt. Tony squeaked and grabbed the blanket out of her hand to cover himself. “A tail, ears, and meowing,” she announced. “And I think his teeth are still cat like too.” Natasha put a hand on Tony’s cheek to lift his lip, fang visible. A deep growl rumbled warningly in Tony’s chest and the redhead backed away.

“Oh,” said Frigga in distress. “That is not a favorable outcome.”

“Can you remove them, Mother?” asked Thor.

“Let me see,” the queen muttered. “Let me see.” Tony held still as she softly ran her hands over his ears and along his shoulders, although he could not completely quiet the distressed growling. He looked pleading up at her. “I think…” Frigga mumbled, seemingly to herself. The tips of her fingers sparked gold and she grabbed the air near one of the triangle ears. She drew her hand out, the air wavering like it was hot. Tony flinched, pain stabbing at the side of his head. Frigga pulled a little more and the dark haired man screeched as it felt like fire erupted all along his side. Everybody jumped and Frigga let go. Tony reached up to grab the ill-treated ear with a whine, the blanket slipping down one shoulder. His eyes were suspiciously wet. Steve took a step forward but Bruce grabbed his arm and held him back. Anger tightened Frigga’s face, her eyes going hard. “Loki, what have you done?” She straightened, mouth pinched.

“Meow?” said Tony questioningly. It was vastly easier to understand his meaning now that they could follow his facial expressions.

“What is it, Mother?” asked Thor.

Frigga sighed, visibly calming herself. “Loki has created a particularly nasty barrier to his spell. My efforts have removed most of it but, as you can see, some parts still cling to Lord Stark. Most notably, his inability to speak and be understood. I fear the spell will protect itself from anymore of my tampering, causing Lord Stark great pain if I should attempt more.”

Tony’s ears dropped. “Meow,” he said softly. (Shit. Shit shit shit shit.)

Thor looked disappointed and then drew himself up. “Then we must fetch my brother so he may remove his spell from my friend himself.”

“Uh, we tried that,” Clint protested. “He kicked our butts and made a mess of China Town and Riverside Park.”

Frigga looked thoughtful. “I will give you the means to subdue Loki. I think it is high time Asgard take its wayward son seriously in hand. I’ve been much too lenient with Loki’s infractions. Is it alright if I make use of your library for a couple more hours?” Tony nodded, still soothing his stinging ear.

Thor gently led his mother back to the library. “Come, Mother. Rest for a few minutes,” he muttered.

A trio of cleaning bots rolled out from their wall niches and began to suck up the ashes from the used sigils with happy little beeps. Tony huffed and tried to stand, bringing feet and legs that felt weird and foreign under himself and pushing up. It was awkward as he clutched at the blanket. Tony gave a little yelp as his balance suddenly disappeared and he began to fall. “Careful!” exclaimed Steve, darting forward to catch him. Tony let go of the blanket to grab onto Steve’s shirt and it went fluttering to the floor. 

Steve had grabbed Tony around the waist on instinct and it took a moment for his brain to realize what was happening when his hands landed on warm skin instead of fabric. Tony’s ears twitched, tickling the blond’s cheek. “Oh geez!” Steve cried, his hands flying up into the air. The cat squeaked as his right leg gave out and he began to fall again. Steve grabbed him for a second time, quick super soldier reflexes coming in handy. This time he made sure to grab Tony’s shoulders instead of anywhere lower. The cat huffed and gave Steve a disgruntled look. (Honestly, Cap! It’s not anything you haven’t seen before!) He gave an annoyed meow. “Sorry,” muttered Steve, catching his meaning from his glare. The blond was resolutely not looking any further down. He could feel the smaller man pressed all along his front and the slight tremors through Tony’s muscles.

Natasha snatched up the blanket and swung it around Tony’s naked back, the cat tail long enough to brush the floor. The redhead snorted as she drew Tony away and helped steady him as he swayed. “Men,” she grumbled. 

Bruce appeared on Tony’s other side and offered his shoulder to lean on. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.” They headed toward the elevator, helping to support Tony as he got his feet to work right. “Come on. Left. Right. Left. Right,” urged Bruce. Tony glared at him as they shuffled into the carriage. (I know how to walk! Things just aren’t cooperating at the moment!) The elevator doors closed.

Steve hands opened and closed helplessly. He could still feel the warmth of Tony’s body against him and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Dude,” Clint said with a lewd grin. “You might want to visit the little boy’s room to take care of your … ahem, not so little problem.” Steve glared at him hotly but turned to walk stiffly toward the bathroom. Clint chuckled behind him and Steve gritted his teeth, closing the door with a little more force than he normally would.

Steve blew out a big breath and fumbled with his pants to pull the fly open. He winced as the pressure was relieved and glared down at his traitorous body, flesh hard and thick. “What are you doing?” he hissed at himself. “He has a girlfriend, for pity’s sake.” Never mind that Tony’s skin had been soft and warm and his eyes still beautiful and golden. Don’t think about how perfectly the smaller man had felt tucked up close against Steve, his weight in his arms for that one tiny second. Steve roughly pushed his fingers through his hair. “I am not going to jerk off in the hall bathroom like some horny teenager,” he muttered and forced his pining thoughts to turn to dead bugs and heaps of trash and any other disgusting thing he could think of. His body did not listen, still showing signs of his ill-advised desire. Steve groaned and thought of cold water closing over his head, ice creeping into his lungs, and 70 years crawling by without him.

That did it. Steve erection disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and he slipped himself back into his pants before washing his hands. He glanced at his pale reflection and gave it a sickly grin. Seventy years ago there had been a pretty brunette dame with brown eyes and a sharp tongue that had caught his eye and heart, a real firecracker. Now it was a handsome fella with motor oil under his fingernails and a supernova smile, just as able to make things explode. “Well, at least I know I have a type,” Steve grumbled. He splashed his face with cold water and dried it off. He fixed his hair and left the bathroom, praying that Clint would go easy on him with his teasing.


	18. EIGHTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry with how long this took. A series of unfortunately events made writing nearly impossible. My laptop died in the middle of August. I went on vacation in the beginning of September. And then we had some bad news about my Mom’s health in the middle of that. Still no laptop, so I have to write during free moments at work and when I can make it to the library.

Steve came out of the bathroom to find Clint leaning in the doorway to the library. He joined him and Clint nodded toward the couch where Frigga and Thor were sitting. “He’s gotten her to agree to rest for a couple of minutes,” the archer said. “It looks like turning Tony mostly back into a human took a lot out of her.”

Steve nodded. “She should rest. She’s already done a lot to help us,” he agreed. “I’m going to go see about making something for dinner. It’s getting late.” Steve glanced toward the windows, which were glowing golden with the quickly setting sun. He left for the kitchen and Clint wandered after him. Steve cringed, expecting the teasing to start as soon as they got into the kitchen.

Instead, Clint leaned awkwardly against the island and rubbed at his neck. “Look, man, you uh… I just wanted to make sure you knew that that… type of thing, you know, with Tony-kitty, it’s completely cool. I mean, there are still a few shit-heads that give people a hard time but it’s not like something to freak out over. It’s cool.”

Steve was searching the refrigerator for meal ideas, thinking perhaps ordering in pizza was the best bet, while Clint rambled. He looked up at the archer with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, don’t make me say it out loud,” pleaded Clint. Steve still had no idea what he was talking about and Clint groaned like he was being tortured. “I’m talking about… you know, you finding Tony-kitty attractive and popping a boner.” Steve stared at him and panic twisted Clint’s face. “It is seriously no big deal, man. You going all googly-eyed over Tony-kitty is fine. We all know you’re getting sweet on him.”

“He has a girlfriend,” Steve argued, reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Well, yeah. And Pepper is a great gal but that doesn’t mean you can’t be looking and you sure as hell are going to react when he’s all pressed up against you like that. No biggie. Even I think the man has a great ass and I’m straight!”

“Clint!” barked Steve in disapproval. 

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re not about to go running off screaming into the night because you like the angle of the dangle!” blurted Clint. Steve’s lips pressed together and Clint slumped against the island, slapping a hand over his face. “Where is that alien invasion when you really need one?” he moaned.

Natasha entering the kitchen stopped the conversation and saved the archer. “Everything alright?” Steve asked, pointedly turning his attention toward the redhead.

“Yes. Tony is taking the longest, most thorough shower of his life. Bruce is up there with him. I think he wants to look Tony over as soon as he’s done, make sure everything ended up in the right place.” Really, Steve could have done without the shower information. He felt guilty enough as it was thinking about the dark haired man like… that.

Thor appeared with a concerned frown on his face. “I do not want to impose but is it possible to get some sustenance for my Mother? She needs to keep up her strength.”

It was like trying to deal with a bunch of children all running around in different directions. “Okay,” Steve said firmly. “Clint, veggie plate and dips. Natasha, potato and pita chips. Jarvis, order pizza.”

“Shall I call in the usual order, Captain?” asked the AI.

“Add another cheese pizza just in case and order a little more salad and bread sticks,” replied Steve. “Then please inform Tony and Bruce that dinner is on its way and not to take too long in the lab.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Thor, help me pour some drinks and carry them into the library. We’ll snack for a while before the pizza comes.”

“Aye. My Mother was much enamored with the Sprite drink.”

Up in the penthouse and its huge shower, Tony was busy scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin was bright pink. After over two weeks of nothing but tongue baths, it was nice to feel truly clean again. He washed his hair twice. The cat ears on top of his head twitched and he spent some time running his fingers over his skull, frowning over the weird shape of new muscle and tissue. Tony shivered as he hit a particularly pleasant spot and jerked his hands away. Okay, so the sensitivity was still there. Great... The tail was even odder and Tony stared as it swayed behind him. He touched the spot where it attached to his spine and yelped at the jolt of sensation. 

“Tony?” called Bruce, knocking at the door. “Are you alright?”

“Meow!” Tony huffed and went back to cleaning himself. He got out of the shower and dried off with a towel, wrapping it around his waist. It soon became apparent that his new appendage did not like that. The towel pressing down on his tail was terribly uncomfortable and Tony squirmed as he rewrapped it so it was free. He brushed his teeth and trimmed his beard. The toothpaste burned his mouth a little and the buzz of the clippers made him uneasy, the ears on top of his head flattening. But Tony stubbornly powered through it until he was once again looking like himself. Well, himself plus extra ears and a tail. (Christ on a Pogo stick…) Tony groaned to himself.

“Tony?” Bruce called worriedly. The dark haired man rolled his eyes and threw open the bathroom door. Bruce looked so relieved to see him that Tony felt momentarily bad for being annoyed. “How do you feel? Any more dizziness or weakness in your limbs?” Tony shook his head. There had been a few moments when his legs hadn’t wanted to cooperate and he’d swayed a little but he’d gotten himself under control before he could fall. It just seemed as if his body was confused about having two legs again. Bruce sighed and nodded. “Jarvis said that dinner will be here in about 30 minutes but I want a chance to look you over in the lab and make sure everything is alright.”

Tony meowed and waved his hand in the air, walking toward his closet. “I have ordered pizza from the usual place, Sir,” replied Jarvis to the silent prompt.

“Can you even eat human food now?” Bruce mused. Tony gave him a stricken look as he dug through his dresser for his most comfortable pair sweatpants. (I’m not eating cat food anymore! Not while I finally have thumbs again!) “I’m sure you can,” soothed Bruce, putting his hands up in surrender. Tony hissed at him with a flash of fangs and shut the door to his big walk-in closet with a bang so he could have some privacy while dressing.

Tony wiggled in discomfort as he pulled on the sweatpants. He placed the waistband just below his tail but they kept riding up and rubbing against the sensitive underside. He had to keep reaching back and pulling them down like he was getting a wedgie or something. A long sleeved t-shirt went over top, which stopped the curve of his ass from showing. Tony gave an aggravated sigh.

Bruce gave him a sympathetic smile when he emerged. “Ready? I want to get some scans done before dinner,” asked Bruce. Tony held up one finger. “In a minute? Tony, we don’t have a lot of time…” Tony herded the other man out of the bedroom and closed the door in his face.

Tony trotted over to the nightstand with a grin and picked up the computer tablet sitting there. He tapped on the screen and snapped his fingers expectantly, bouncing a little in excitement. “Sir, I am sorry, but I’ve tried to call Miss Potts 3 times and sent 5 text messages since you’ve been turned mostly back into a human. She is not picking up and sent a text back saying she’ll call tomorrow,” said Jarvis, a touch of apology in his voice. Tony’s cat ears drooped and he quickly tapped on the screen again. “Miss Potts’ phone GPS has her located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Sir.” Tony slumped with a whine. (I didn’t even know she was leaving New York.) “I am sorry, Sir,” Jarvis repeated. Tony murred in his throat and shook his head. (It’s not your fault I aggravate Pepper so much, J. I’ll just have to make it up to her when she gets back.)

Tony opened the bedroom door and tried to smile at Bruce’s worried look. “Is everything okay?” Tony shrugged, not wanting to talk about it, or able to talk about it either, and gestured the scientist forward. Bruce let himself be brushed off with a sigh and they headed down to the lab. “Scans first,” Bruce ordered as he began to prep a tray with tools and latex gloves. 

Tony wandered over to a round disk set in the floor and twirled his fingers, spinning his pointer finger in a circle. The ceiling split apart and two arms descended. “Please remain still, Sir,” Jarvis advised as the arms slowly rotated around Tony. The scanners hummed gently and Tony’s ears twitched as they itched. His tail wanted to lash in discomfort but he held it still through willpower. 

A detailed imaged of the dark haired man’s body appeared slowly on a screen and Bruce hummed in interest as he studied it. “It looks like your ears and tail are wired into you central nervous system and not just stuck on there willy-nilly,” he said. Tony nose wrinkled as the arms retreated into the ceiling. (Don’t say it. Don’t say it.) “Fascinating,” Bruce muttered. Tony rolled his eyes. (You just had to say it.) He went over to the screen and traced the veins and nerves that traveled up his back and along his hips with a finger. It was pretty interesting, he had to admit, even if looking at it made his skin crawl.

They took several vials of blood and some skin and hair samples. Well, fur samples. Tony felt around his ears again. Yep, definitely fur on the ears while his scalp was still covered in regular hair. Weird. Bruce stuck a scope down in there trying to figure out if the ears did anything besides twitch and rotate. Tony squirmed because anything messing with his ears made something itch inside. It was annoying. Bruce was snapping his fingers, watching Tony’s ears swivel in the direction of the sound, when Jarvis announced that the pizza had arrived and Captain Rogers was demanding they stop playing mad scientists and come eat.

Bruce chuckled while he pulled off his latex gloves. “We’ll be up in a second, Jarvis.” Tony pulled his t-shirt back on and hiked his pants back up, wincing as they made the base of his tail ache. Bruce cleaned up and popped a few vials of blood into the centrifuge to separate and the skin biopsy under the scanner for Jarvis to work on while they ate.

The smell of melty cheese and hot tomato sauce hit them as they excited the elevator and Tony hurried to the large table to snatch up a slice of pizza. He groaned as he bit into the food, flavor bursting over his tongue. (Oh my god! So good!) He downed the whole piece in a couple huge bites and picked up a second. Steve touched his shoulder and Tony blinked up at him. “Slow down and sit. You don’t have to eat it so quickly.” Tony chirruped at the blond and sat in the chair. They didn’t often use the big dining table, much preferring to eat at the kitchen island, but with the extra person joining them they needed the room and the big table could seat a dozen people.

Tony shifted in his chair and then shifted again, squirming to find a comfortable position for his tail. With a growl, he dropped his slice of pizza on the paper plate in front of him and reached back to thread his tail through the rungs of the chair back so it wasn’t squished off to the side. (That is going to get really annoying really quick.)

“This has a most curious flavor,” Frigga said as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “I like it.”

“It is quite good. Pizza is a delicacy I much enjoy on Midgard,” agreed Thor. Everyone passed around the bowl of salad and the box of chicken wings and mozzarella sticks. Tony piled up his plate, wanting to eat all of it. Eating real, honest to god food after over two weeks of kitty slop was heaven. Steve was pouring glasses of soda and passing them around the table. Tony picked up the glass of Coke Natasha passed down to him and knew something was wrong the moment he took his first mouthful. He froze, unable to swallow the sugary viscous liquid. His throat just wasn’t going to do it. The soda began to burn his sinuses and Tony made a noise of distress.

“Tony? What’s wrong?” asked Steve as Tony’s cheeks began to turn red. The cat’s face twisted, fighting to just swallow the soda and be done with it.

“Spit it back into the glass if you don’t want it,” Natasha ordered. Tony squirmed, not wanting to be rude, but finally just spat the mouthful back into the glass. He gasped in air and sputtered. “Looks like soda is still a no go,” Natasha mused. Tony ran his tongue around his mouth and made a disgusted face. It felt like he’d tried to swallow glue. (Yuck!) Clint snickered and Tony glared at him.

“I’ll get you a bottle of water,” announced Steve, standing and going into the kitchen. 

“Maybe your physiology is a bit more cat like than we expected,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to be careful with what foods you eat.”

Steve came back with a bottle of water. “Should Tony be eating regular food? We have plenty of cat food left.” Tony hissed at him while cracking the bottle open. (I’m not eating cat food!) He took a gulp of water, swished it around his mouth, and spat it out into the glass.

“Ew!” Clint exclaimed. Tony glared at the archer as he downed the rest of the bottle of water in several long swallows.

Steve brushed a hand over the dark haired man’s shoulder again. “Careful. Don’t make yourself sick.” Tony flicked an ear at him and cautiously bit into a mozzarella stick. Hot cheese oozed into his mouth, delicious even as it burned his tongue. He ate the stick happily and next tested the chicken wing. At first, Tony thought he was okay. He took another bite and licked at his fingers. Then the heat from the sauce hit the back of his throat and quickly went from pleasantly spicy to burning and painful. The cat began to cough, eyes watering.

Natasha quickly handed him a wad of napkins. “Chicken wings are out too,” she announced.

“But they’re mild!” Clint complained.

“Doesn’t matter. Felines can’t handle spice. It looks like only bland foods for Tony,” said Bruce, looking sympathetically at Tony when his eyes streamed tears. Steve got up again and hurried back into the kitchen for another bottle of water. “Get a glass of milk too,” Bruce ordered after him. “It will help better with the burning.”

“I am sorry my son has brought you such misfortune, Lord Stark,” Frigga apologized, her face concerned as Tony sniffled, the burning traveling up his nose. “I am also sorry I could not completely remove Loki’s spell from you.”

Tony shook his head. “Meow!” he gasped. (You did what you could.) Steve came back with a bottle of water and a glass of milk. Tony snatched the milk from him and drank it down. The milk soothed the sting of the spicy sauce and Tony felt like he could finally breathe again. He wiped his face clean roughly, embarrassed.

Thor watched guiltily as Tony rubbed at his wet eyes and sniffled. “Is there anything we may get you, my friend?” he asked. “Is not ice cream cold and creamy? Perhaps it would soothe the pain?”

“That’s a great idea, Thor.” Steve cupped his hand over Tony’s shoulder and leaned down a little. “Do you want some ice cream, Tony? We have some vanilla.” Tony gave him a baleful look. (I’m not a little kid with a boo-boo, Steve.) His tail thumped the chair leg unhappily but Tony sighed and nodded. “I’ll bring some for everyone,” Steve said, making another trip to the kitchen.

Tony tried to finish his slice of pizza but his mouth and throat were so sore it was painful to swallow. He sighed and pushed his plate away. Something touched his hair and Tony jumped, turning his head to stare in surprise as Natasha petted him between the cat ears. “Poor kotëhok,” the redhead murmured. Tony looked uncertain, ears flattening. (Am I still kotëhok to you? I still don’t know what that means either.) Natasha’s fingers strayed to an ear and began to scratch. It was still as pleasurable as it had been before and Tony found himself titling his head into her hand without realizing it, eyes drifting half closed.

Some of them jumped when Steve set the ice cream cartons down on the table with a loud thump. It was unlike the blond to be so ungentle. Natasha removed her hand with a tiny smirk. “I brought out the mint chocolate chip and the butter pecan too,” Steve announced, banging bowls and spoons around while giving Natasha displeased glances. He obviously didn’t know he was doing it and Natasha’s smirk widened. The blond’s face eased and he smiled when he handed Tony a bowl of vanilla ice cream. “Here ya go, Tony.” Natasha had to stop herself from laughing. It was almost too good!

Tony accepted the bowl with a chitter and carefully touched a glob of vanilla ice cream to his tongue, just in case the universe wasn’t done fucking with him. The ice cream was still as cold and creamy and delicious as it had been before and he slipped the lump into his mouth with relief. It soothed the burn and Tony quickly ate another spoonful. The others were passing around bottles of rainbow sprinkles and chocolate shavings with their bowls of ice cream. Frigga was giving everyone a pleased smile and Thor was looking relaxed and happy. “And this is nothing more than frozen cream and vanilla?” Frigga asked.

“Yes. Well, among some other flavorings, but mostly just frozen cream and vanilla,” replied Bruce.

“Do you think we can make ice cream in Asgard, Mother?” Thor asked, an excited gleam entering his eyes.

Frigga thoughtfully tasted another spoonful of vanilla ice cream. “I don’t see why not. It seems simple enough.”

Tony scraped up the last of his ice cream and held the empty bowl up with a demanding meow. “More?” asked Steve, taking the bowl. Tony nodded eagerly.

“Here. Try some of mine,” Natasha offered, holding up a spoonful of butter pecan. Tony’s ears perked up and he gulped down the spoonful like it might be taken away. Natasha grinned and turned to scoop up a little of Clint’s mint chocolate chip.

“Hey!” Clint complained, hunching protectively over his bowl. “Get your own.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and offered the spoon to Tony. The cat gulped the green glob down happily. “Good?” the redhead asked. Tony’s face scrunched up comically and he shivered. (It tingles!)

“Mint too much for you?” Bruce asked, grinning amusedly. Tony coughed and licked his lips repeatedly.

Steve set a bowl of plain vanilla in front of Tony with a sharp clatter. “Maybe we should refrain from giving Tony questionable foods until we’re sure they won’t make him sick,” he said sternly. He gave Natasha a pointed look but the redhead’s face remained bland. Tony quickly ate a spoonful of vanilla ice cream in hopes it would stop the prickling in his mouth from the mint. He reached behind himself and yanked on the band of the sweatpants. They were really beginning to irritate his tail.

The rest of dinner was a relaxed affair. They had their fill of pizza and ice cream and Tony slumped lazily in his chair. Somewhere in his hindbrain was the desire to lick his hand and groom his face, which he was masterfully ignoring. He wiped his face carefully with a napkin and told himself sternly that that was enough. When Frigga returned to the library to work on bringing Loki to them, the rest of the group followed. Thor was attentive to his mother’s needs and the others were curious as to how the queen would bring her wayward son to heel. Tony paused half way across the living room and looked back. Steve was clearing the table alone. He stacked up the paper plates and some of the dirty bowls and headed into the kitchen.

Tony’s tail lashed in indecision for a moment. He glanced at the door to the library and then headed back to the dining table. He collected the rest of the bowls and brought them into the kitchen. Steve was standing at the sink, filling it with hot water, when Tony quietly meowed to get his attention. The blond startled a little. Steve looked up in surprise and Tony held out the bowls with an apologetic smile. Steve huffed. “Tony, you startled me,” he said, taking the dirty bowls and setting them on the counter. Tony trilled and gestured to the sink. Steve looked confused and Tony quickly fetched a clean towel from the cabinet (he did so know where they were kept!) and came to stand next to the blond. The cat chittered impatiently. A smile broke across Steve’s face. “You want to help me do the dishes?” Tony rolled his eyes and shook the towel meaningfully. (Yes! God help me. I must be out of my mind to want to do chores. But you look all pathetic in here by yourself.) “Alright,” Steve replied, tone pleased. “I’ll wash, you dry.” Tony nodded in agreement. 

Steve dumped the dirty bowls and silverware in the soapy water and started scrubbing. As he rinsed the suds off the dishes he handed them to Tony to dry and be put away. They worked quietly for a while until the blond nearly jumped out of his skin when something curled around his calf. He glanced down and found Tony’s tail had wrapped around his leg. Steve glanced over at him but Tony seemed oblivious to his wayward appendage’s actions and was dropping clean spoons into the drawer. Steve fought down his smile lest he draw Tony’s attention to it and went back to washing the dishes. A little ball of warmth formed in his chest.

Clint came in to get a refill of his soda a couple minutes later and cocked an eyebrow when he saw Tony drying dishes and stacking them neatly away. “Natasha, Steve and Tony are acting all domestic!” he called over his shoulder. Tony hissed at him, pointed teeth visible. “Oh! Ferocious kitty. I’m so scared,” Clint teased as he pulled the soda bottle from the fridge and poured some into his glass. Tony’s tail flicked away from Steve’s leg, much to his disappointment, and lashed into the lower kitchen cabinets with a loud thump. Tony started and glared down at it. (Stupid tail.) The tail sagged to hang still.

“Leave him alone, Clint. He’s just being polite, which is more than I can say for the rest of you,” chided Steve, rinsing off the last bowl and pulling the plug to drain the sink. Tony thrust his chin out and smiled smugly.

“Oi! I’ve done the dishes before,” Clint complained.

“Only after the sink was overflowing and Natasha threatened you with Venezuela,” replied Steve, tone exasperated and slightly confused. Clint gave an exaggerated shudder. Tony narrowed his eyes. (One of these days I will hack your mission files and find out what the hell you two are talking about.)

Natasha appeared in the archway. “Frigga is asking for you, Tony.” He meowed at her while drying his hands and followed her back to the library. Clint and Steve hurried after them.

The visiting queen gave him a solemn look when Tony entered the library and the cat felt a chill race up his spine. “I require some of Lord Stark’s blood to complete the spell that will locate Loki,” Frigga announced. Tony took an involuntary step back, his tail puffing up, and bumped into Steve.

The blond put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and sort of edged forward to block Frigga’s view of the cat with his body. “How much blood?” demanded Steve tersely. Tony gave a distressed little murr sound in his throat, envisioning the Asgardian woman wielding a knife much too close to his skin. Steve glanced at Bruce. “Perhaps we could draw the blood safely with a syringe?” 

To everyone’s surprise, Thor gave a hearty laugh. Steve frowned at him. “My Mother needs a mere drop, my friends. It will be no more than a prick to the finger.”

“Oh.” Steve gave the queen a sheepish smile. 

“I’ll go get a sterile needle,” Bruce said, heading out the door. 

“I did not mean to alarm you. I require a drop of blood from Lord Stark so I may focus the spell upon Loki since we lack any other article of his. The remnants of the spell upon him will do nicely,” explained Frigga.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve replied in embarrassment. “It’s just, in our experience, magic that involves blood usually doesn’t mean anything good for us.” Tony chittered in agreement, taking a moment to lean against Steve’s warm bulk in thanks. Steve tensed a little as Tony pressed against him and stared after him with wide eyes as Tony went to sit down at the table next to Frigga. Parchment paper was once again laid out on the table and the bottle of ink and quill were waiting. Steve stepped forward to loom behind the dark haired man’s chair. Frigga gave him a tiny amused smile.

Bruce returned with a needle. He pulled an alcohol wipe open and cleaned off the tip of Tony’s index finger. Tony rolled his eyes. “Where do you need the drop of blood?” Bruce asked.

Frigga pushed the bottle of ink in front of them. “Directly into the bottle, Lord Banner. A single drop of blood is all that is required.”

Bruce nodded and tore the needle packaging apart. “Just a little stick,” he warned Tony before jabbing the cat quickly. Tony winced and watched as the bead of bright red blood welled up on his fingertip and dripped down into the ink bottle. He pulled his hand away after the drop fell and went to stick the injured finger in his mouth to suck on it but Bruce grabbed his wrist. “Don’t,” he ordered. Tony winced again as Bruce scrubbed the prick with another alcohol wipe and then wrapped a Band-Aid around his finger. Tony scowled and Bruce glared back. Tony dropped his hand into his lap with a pout.

Frigga picked up the ink bottle and gave it a gentle swirl, cooing at it with soft words. The bottle began to glow a silver blue. Natasha and Clint edged forward as the glow brightened, the cool light glittering across the bookshelves. A low thrum vibrated in the air and moved through their bodies. Tony shook his head as the inside of his ears began to itch. He reached up to rub on the furry triangles nestled in his hair. Steve touched his shoulder and leaned down. “You ok?” he muttered. Tony nodded and meowed softly in reply.

The ink bottle dimmed and began to turn murky. Soon it had a black greenish look to it and Frigga gave a satisfied if grim nod. She picked up the pen and dipped it into the ink, beginning to created jagged patterns on each piece of parchment paper. The queen worked carefully, her face still with concentration. As she brushed the designs onto the paper, the ink gleamed with a muddled green and blue glow before fading to black. They watched Frigga work until she had half a dozen parchment papers with jumping, twisting lines upon them. She gave her work a long look and then sighed. “I am done. If we can find someplace out of doors, I will set the spell in motion.”

“This floor has a balcony,” suggested Steve. “Otherwise, I think we’d need to leave the tower and that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Fury would have a heart attack if we took a visiting alien queen out into New York City,” snorted Clint from where he had draped himself over an armchair.

“Your balcony should suffice,” Frigga said. She carefully sealed the ink bottle and Thor helped his mother gather up the parchment. They left the library and crossed the living room to the balcony doors. The tandoor clay oven that Bruce had used to cook naan bread in over a week ago was still outside, pushed into a forgotten corner. The Asgardians went to the center of the balcony and Frigga eyed the open space judgingly. Bruce shuffled out of the way besides the lounge chairs. Tony was next but he balked at the doorway.

“Oh, what’s the hold up?” complained Clint. 

Natasha sighed and grabbed the archer to yank him to the side and around Tony and Steve. “Don’t whine,” muttered the redhead. Tony sidestepped out of their way, tail twitching in agitation. Natasha and Clint made themselves comfortable on some deck chairs while Steve paused with Tony at the threshold.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked. Tony looked worriedly out at the deck. His tail flicked up and he grabbed it in his hands to fuss with it. (Well, at least I’m too big for a hawk to carry off now.) Night had fallen over New York City, the dark lit up by artificial lights. “Tony?” Steve asked softly. Tony chittered anxiously, fangs flashing.

“I believe Sir is concerned about someone taking his picture while he is… indisposed as he is,” Jarvis supplied, tone careful. Tony pouted as his ears flattened. (Pepper would kill me if a picture got out! Can you imagine? Tony Stark; Man Kitty! She’d kill me and I’d never hear the end of it from the media.) He rumbled deep in his throat.

“We can stay here and watch, if you want?” Steve replied, looking gently down at Tony. The cat perked up, nodding with relief. A bright blue flash out on the deck made them look up. Frigga was holding a parchment paper up in the air. It was glowing with silver blue light again. Tony squinted and then jumped as a rush of air rattled the windows. The lighter furniture out on the balcony tipped over with a clatter. Thor’s cape was billowing in the wind and Frigga’s dress flapped around her legs. Natasha bunched her hair up in a fist at her neck and squinted into the bright light while Clint and Bruce shaded their eyes with their hands. Steve caught Tony’s shoulders and guided the startled cat away from the shaking doorway.

Frigga’s voice rose stern and commanding out on the balcony. Tony ears began to itch again as the queen barked out words like the crack of a whip. The glowing parchment paper collapsed into a sphere, like a tiny star, and then bloomed apart into a shimmering bird shape that glittered blue and silver as it hovered in the air over Frigga’s head. “Whoa!” cried Clint, as if he were watching a performance on a stage. The bird drifted over to perch on the balcony railing and Frigga moved on to the next parchment until a set of 6 dimly shimmering blue birds were created. Tony rubbed his ears and shook his head, feeling a headache coming on from the itch and throb that he couldn’t quite reach.

The birds sat on the railing flicking their wings and bending their necks to preen at iridescent blue feathers. They were beautiful, except for the unsettling greenish gleam to their eyes. Frigga pointed at them with one finger and the birds lifted their heads to look at her as one. “Fara, finna Loki og koma með hann hingað,” the queen snapped. The birds all spread their wings and slipped from the railing to wheel about in the air. Tony trotted along the window as they drifted away between the tall buildings, each bird heading in a different direction. “There,” announced Frigga in a tired voice once everything was quiet. “It is done.”

Thor stepped forward to support her and guide her back into the living room. “Come, Mother. You could use some rest.” Everyone trailed back inside while Tony wandered along the huge window, trying to catch one more glimpse of the blue birds. But they were gone and the cat gave a disappointed murr before going over to plop down on the big club chair. He flinched and reached behind himself to pull his tail out from where it was squished. The underside of his tail was really beginning to smart. Steve paced around before sitting on the couch seat closest to Tony’s chair. Natasha and Clint glanced at each other, Clint rolling his eyes a little. A few muscles in Natasha’s face twitched and Clint grinned.

Frigga straightened herself on the couch, her son sitting worriedly next to her. She smoothed down her steel blue dress and took a deep breath. “The andar will seek out Loki. When they find him, they will subdue him and bring him back here,” she explained.

“How long will it take the andar to bring Loki back?” asked Bruce, stumbling over the foreign word. Tony shifted anxiously in his chair.

“It depends on how far my brother has fled to hide. If he is near, they will find him quickly. If he is far away, well…” replied Thor, trailing off meaningfully at the end.

“Great,” moaned Clint, flopping back in his chair. “More waiting.”

Steve frowned. “If he’s in the city, it can’t take that long.”

“If he’s in the city, that is,” Natasha said with a soft sigh.

Clint gave another, louder, moan. “It is going to be a long night.”


	19. NINETEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long and is so short. Last time I posted I said we had some bad news about my Mother's health. Well, she died in the beginning of October. Then I broke my arm the beginning of November. Yeah, messed up my elbow. Surgery and two months recovery time. So, I'm finally able to actually type since about Christmas. It's been a sucky end to 2014.
> 
> Chapter 20 should be up in a day or two. I'm in the middle of writing it right now. Thank you for your patience and support.

They waited hopefully for several hours but it had been a long day with an early morning. Clint was snoring on the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table with the other limp on the floor. Natasha was in a chair in a wakeful doze. Bruce had disappeared down to his lab to check on the results of the tests on Tony and had not returned. They presumed that no news was good news and left him alone. Thor had taken his mother up to his floor to rest. Tony had fallen asleep in the other club chair, his nose buried in the seat arm and legs pulled up against his chest. His tail was curled tightly around his body. Steve was still wide awake, watching the news on the huge TV with the sound down so low only the super soldier could possible hear it. He was hoping for some tidbit of information stating that Loki had been sighted but, strangely, not even a report of the glowing birds was mentioned.

Steve glanced down as Tony’s tail and ears twitched. The dark haired man made a low sound in his throat and Steve bit his lip. “Tony?” he muttered softly. Tony’s face wrinkled and he made a noise too close to a moan for Steve’s comfort. Without thinking, he reached out and stroked Tony’s hair between the cat ears. “Shhh. Everything is fine,” he soothed. Tony pressed up into the warm touch and then retucked himself into the club chair, seemingly returning to a peaceful sleep. Steve kept stroking, his lips curling fondly.

“You’re good with him,” Natasha murmured quietly, startling Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away guiltily. “He’s just unsettled,” he said with shrug. “A lot has happened today.” Natasha continued looking at him and Steve turned back toward the TV and resolutely ignored her.

“I’m waffling between you being a gentleman or you being deliberately obtuse.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Yes, you do. I’m leaning toward gentleman but I haven’t ruled out avoidance as a coping mechanism.”

“I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth.”

A grin flashed across Natasha’s face. “When did you see Rush Hour?”

Steve looked at her in confusion despite himself. “What?” Then he sighed, “I quoted something by accident again, didn’t I?”

Natasha chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure Clint will force you to watch every Chris Tucker movie in existence sooner or later. I’m talking about the feelings you are developing for Tony.”

Steve rubbed at his face. “Why does everyone want to talk about how I feel about Tony today?”

“Because, despite all our skills, we can’t actually read minds. We’re watching to see if this is going to be a problem for the team. You going to make a move? It's getting kind of tragic watching you pine.”

“He has a girlfriend!” Steve snapped, feeling like a broken record. Tony flinched in his sleep and Steve glanced at him guiltily. Steve and Natasha were silent as they watched the brunette closely but Tony settled again after a moment. “So it really doesn’t matter either way,” Steve hissed.

Natasha hummed. “So, a gentleman and obtuse then. That's an odd combination.”

“Did it ever occur to you morons to just ask Tony if he might be interested in Steve? Work the other side of the equation?” They both looked over at Clint to find the archer glaring at them with one eye.

“He'll just side with Pepper,” replied Natasha. Their voices were low so as not to disturb Tony again.

Clint opened both eyes and sat up, his foot dropping off the coffee table. “But you don't think Pepper will side with Tony, at least, not for much longer.”

Steve's insides did something complicated. It felt like a swirl of concern and want and guilt. He bit the inside of his cheek. “You told me you didn't think Pepper was going to break up with Tony,” he accused.

Natasha's face went still, revealing nothing. “I said I thought Pepper had a lot to think about we she left here. I don't know what she'll decide.” Clint snorted inelegantly. Steve glanced at him and then frowned firmly at Natasha.

“But you think...” The elevator opening cut Steve off and he fell silent as Thor and Queen Frigga stepped out onto the common floor.

“My apologies, my friends,” said Thor, much louder than they had been conversing. Tony startled awake and blinked owlishly around, ears twitching. “We can wait no longer.”

“I must return to Asgard,”Frigga announced regretfully. “I have already stayed longer than my husband wished and I do not want to test his ire by dallying.”

Everyone stood. “We understand,” Steve said. “You’ve been a great help, Frigga. Thank you so much.”

“It was the least I could do to repay you for Loki’s wrongdoing.” She took a couple steps forward and gathered Tony’s hands up in her own. Tony’s nose twitched. She was warm and the scent of lilacs drifted around her, his mother’s favorite perfume. There was still a crystal bottle of it sitting on Maria Stark’s dressing table at the manor house. His tail curled close to his legs. “I must apologize again, Lord Stark. I’m sorry I could not fully break Loki’s spell.” Tony meowed at her, shaking his head. (You’ve done more than enough!) Frigga smiled and squeezed his hands. “When the andar find Loki, they will bring him back here to the origin of the spell. Thor will contact me at that point and I will return. We will set you to rights, Lord Stark, I promise.” Tony smiled, trying to nod like he completely believed her.

They returned to the roof, Tony hiding in the doorway least an enterprising paparazzi with a long scope lens snapped a lucky shot. Steve hovered just a foot or two beyond the door, blocking the brunette from view. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost,” ordered Queen Frigga. For a moment the late night was still and then the sky split open and rained down light and noise. Tony yelped and shut his eyes, hands flying up to cover sensitive ears. Steve and Clint covered their eyes with their arms while Natasha merely squinted in the bright light. The lighting in the stairwell blinked wildly.

It was all sucked up into the sky like an open tub drain a second later. Tony opened his eyes and frowned at the curving burn pattern smoking on his rooftop. (Pepper is going to kill me when we get the bill to fix that.) Clint yawned and scratched his chest. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m beat. Time for bed.”

“Aye,” agreed Thor. “Let us find our rest, my friends.” They all clomped down the access stairwell to the main elevator. Natasha, Clint, and Thor got off on their floors, each bidding everyone a goodnight until it was just Steve and Tony left. Tony yawned, rubbing at his eyes. His tail hung limp behind him.

The elevator doors next opened on Steve’s floor and the blond got out. Tony made to follow sleepily behind but Steve turned after a step or two and raised his hand. “Well, goodnight, Tony. Sleep well.” Tony blinked but quickly recovered. He rocked back on his heel like he wasn’t about to get out of the carriage and meowed at Steve. The other man smiled and turned away, heading for his bedroom. The elevator doors closed again. Tony’s ears drooped. (Right. Not small and furry anymore. Not so good for cuddling.) His tail lashed and Tony caught it in his hands to worry at the tip. 

The elevator opened on the penthouse floor and Tony stepped out slowly. The penthouse was cold and smelled unused to Tony. He couldn’t keep himself from wrapping his arms around his stomach in agitation. He went over to the wall panel and adjusted the heat and kicked on the air return. It helped a little but Tony still hurried through the living room and into the bedroom. There, he wiggled off his sweatpants and debated putting on some boxer shorts but dismissed it as being too uncomfortable. His tail and spine ached horribly already. 

Tony climbed into bed and lay down on the cool sheets, flicking his fingers with a churring sound. Jarvis shut off the lights and secured the floor for his creator’s protection. Tony turned his face into the pillow and tried to relax. The heater made the faintest sighing sound but Tony’s ears twitched like it was a roar. He dragged the blankets up into a mound around his legs and piled some of the other pillows around his torso. Sleep tugged wantonly at Tony but he rolled over again, unable to find a comfortable position. He picked at the bandaid Bruce had put on his finger from when Frigga needed a drop of his blood. The bandaid came off from his fiddling and Tony tossed it in the direction of the trash bin. He pulled a pillow over his head and just as quickly batted it away as too suffocating. “Sir? How may I be of assistance?” inquired Jarvis after Tony had spent over 30 minutes tossing and turning.

Tony sat up in an explosion of blankets and pillows. His hair was in disarray and his ears and tail were bristling. Everything was too big, too cold. He just couldn’t find a spot that was comfortable. He was tired and he wanted to sleep but it felt like claws were racking across his brain, keeping him from relaxing. The bed just wasn’t right. He felt... unsafe. Tony climbed out of bed and stormed into the living room. There he pulled all of the throw pillows and cushions off the sofa and chairs and dragged them back to his bedroom. The items were piled upon the bed and arranged to some mad plan that only Tony understood.

“Sir?” Tony waved a dismissive hand at Jarvis’ call. A sofa pillow was tested, scrunched into a ball, and discarded. One of the big seat cushions was shoved up against the headboard with a blanket spread over it. “There are extra blankets in the closet, Sir,” Jarvis said helpfully. Tony chirruped and raided the closet. After a while of fussing and rearranging, a mound of cushions and blankets took up half of the large bed. Tony circled his creation, a frown on his face.

The brunette whirled around and trotted out of the bedroom. “Floor, Sir?” asked Jarvis when he reached the elevator. Tony meow a couple times and pointed down. The carriage dropped and soon opened on the common floor. Sofa cushions and chair pillows were similarly swept up and tossed into the elevator. Then Tony stripped the library chairs, making sure to grab the soft afghan throw from the lounge chair. He shoved it all into the elevator with an annoyed huff. “Will that be all, Sir?” asked Jarvis. Tony wagged his head, casting his eyes over the area to see if he’d missed any cushions. With a trill, he hurried over to the cat tree and stuck his arm into the carpeted house. The plushy Captain America shield squeaked in his hands as Tony wedged himself back into the elevator. He meowed demandingly. “Very well, Sir.”

The elevator opened on the penthouse floor and an avalanche of pillows and cushions spilled out. Tony grabbed a sofa seat cushion and some pillows and dragged them to the bedroom. He put the shield toy on his nightstand and set to work.


	20. TWENTY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everybody for the comments and well wishes. I do hope 2015 is better than last year. All your kind words really made my day. Thank you so much.
> 
> As promised, another chapter!

Steve Rogers could not sleep. He stared up at the ceiling in his dark bedroom and thought. One of his hands swept across the blanket, seeking a warm furry body in vain. The blond sighed explosively. “What am I doing?” he muttered angrily at himself. They had finally managed to turn Tony back into a human, albeit with a couple of extra appendages. Loki would soon be forced to remove the last of his spell and, hopefully, be out of their hair for good.

Steve was happy about that. He was. His teammate and friend would be returned to normal. Tony could go back to tinkering in his workshop all day and night long. No more cat food or feather toys. Steve had kept his promise to help Tony and he could feel a knot of tension loosen between his shoulder blades. He had not failed his friend. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, trying to banish the vision of another dark haired man. But this was not like how Steve had failed to save Bucky. Tony was ok. Everything would soon be ok. Steve had saved his friend from a diminished and shortened life as a feline. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm down. Steve should be sleeping peacefully, as he did not doubt Tony was doing himself a couple floors above him.

Then why was there a hard ball of emotion still sitting in Steve’s chest, heavy over his heart? He rolled over aggressively, punching his pillow into shape. He couldn't kid himself, he knew why. Natasha was why. Clint was why. Even Bruce was why. They had planted the seed of an idea, a thought, and now Steve’s brain couldn’t stop mulling it over. In a way, Steve thought he should be angry with them. They had needled. They had suggested. And now Steve couldn't stop himself, his heart, from wandering into dangerous territory.

Steve poked at the ball of emotion. Was what he was feeling, all twisted up under his skin, romantic feelings for Tony as everybody seemed so sure of? Steve huffed and rolled over onto his other side. It was ridiculous. Sure, they might no longer be as antagonistic toward each other as they used to be but insinuating that Steve was secretly in love with the brunette was pushing it into the absurd. To suggest that Tony might return those fictitious feelings was just as laughable. Tony was in a relationship with Miss Potts and, no matter what Natasha thought, Steve knew they loved each other and were committed. All of their teasing was just that, harmless teasing.

Tony was a teammate and, yes, was even becoming a good friend. All of them were becoming good friends, despite the habit of some of them to meddle in the lives of others. The Avengers were quickly becoming the greatest friends Steve could have hoped for while adjusting to his new life in a new time. They were all introducing him to new foods and movies and music and guiding him through new technology and customs. Tony particularly was helpful in that manner, taking time to patiently show Steve how to use his StarkPad and his cellphone and the DVR on the TV and even the weird settings on the microwave. Tony had explained Google and Wikipedia and Facebook and Twitter with a level of patience the others had not been able to maintain for long. The blond knew he had misjudged Tony when they first met and Loki's staff was no excuse for the vitriol Steve had spewed at him on the helicarrier. He felt ashamed of his actions sometimes and strove to make it up to the engineer.

Steve was grateful toward Tony. The man was generous and kind. Tony was kind like he didn't want anyone to know he was kind and so covered it with witty insults and prickly behavior. But he had given Steve a home and helped him a great deal. Tony had given all of them a home, given the Avengers a home and comforts beyond what SHIELD would have even thought to supply them. Having a place to come back to after a battle or a mission was in part as to why the group was working so well. If they wanted human contact, they sought the others out. If they wanted to be alone, they just retreated to their incredibly nice, very large apartments that each took up their own floor and nobody pushed the issue. Tony had provided that. He had provided the platform on which they could stand.

And all Tony seemed to want in return was for there to be coffee in the pot when he stumbled sleepy eyed and wild haired into the kitchen at all hours of the day. Steve caught himself smiling stupidly at nothing and snorted. Yes, he found Tony cute. Handsome even. This was no big deal. He'd appreciated the beauty in both female and male forms even back in the 30's. Limiting yourself to one gender seemed counterproductive to Steve. Although neither had given him so much as the time of day back then and male relationships ran the risk of getting a fella arrested, if not worse. Steve understood that wasn’t what happened now, for the most part, but it was hard to let old habits die. His eyes still wanted to slip away from a pretty man after a moment least someone catch him looking and make an issue of it. Still, Tony was a very handsome man, Steve could admit that. But that wasn't grounds to be accused of loving the brunette. In lust with, maybe, but Steve was hardly going to pursue that.

So, really, constantly telling Steve that he had feelings for Tony was just ridiculous. He had feelings of friendship, of thankfulness, and, maybe, fondness, but that was it. Love came nowhere into it. Steve rolled onto his back and nodded firmly to himself. That was it. His worry and determination to turn Tony back into a human? Friendship, plain and simple. His embarrassing reaction when Tony had tried to stand after Frigga had turned him mostly back into a human? Lust. Any red blooded man would, as Clint had so crassly put it, pop a boner in a similar situation with another person pressed warm and soft against them.

Steve wriggled his shoulders into his pillow, mind pleased with his reasoning. He finally relaxed a little and slowly drifted off to sleep.

(**)

Steve woke groggy and kind of sick feeling the next morning. He groaned as he sat up in bed and glanced at the bedside clock. It was late in the morning, much later than he would usually get up. He rolled to his feet and shuffled off to shower.

After his shower, Steve felt more human and wandered down to the common floor to see what might be available in the kitchen. Sure, he could eat in his own kitchen, but he felt like checking up on everyone. He would see how Tony was doing with two legs and what the others planned to spend the day doing. There was no telling how long the andar would take to locate Loki and bring him back. They could have another long wait in store for them.

Instead, he found Clint standing in the living room clutching a lone throw pillow. He was looking with supreme confusion at the bare sofa and chairs. “What happened to the cushions?” asked Steve.

“I have no idea!” Clint exclaimed. “I came down to use the espresso machine and found the living room like this.”

“So, not one of your pranks?”

“What could I possibly need every cushion and pillow on the common floor for?”

Steve gave the archer a bland look and sighed. “Jarvis, where are all the cushions and pillows?”

“Sir has appropriated them. They are up in the penthouse.”

“What could Tony-kitty possibly need with all those?” asked Clint.

“He has constructed some sort of den or nest out of them.”

Clint’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “This, I have to see.” He dodged around Steve into the elevator. Steve slipped in just as the doors were closing.

“I’m sure Tony has a perfectly good reason for taking all the cushion and pillows,” Steve said as the carriage rose.

“Oh, I’m sure he does too. I just wanna see whatever pillow fort he’s constructed up there. It must be epic!” The doors opened and Clint went skipping out, looking slightly disappointed that the living room was empty.

“This seems like an invasion of privacy,” Steve complained.

“Oh, like Jarvis would even let us up here if it wasn’t ok.”

“Just because you have authorization to be on the penthouse floor, Agent, does not mean Sir won’t be annoyed with you for being here,” Jarvis informed them.

The archer winced a little. He only got called ‘agent’ when the AI was feeling prissy with him. “Tony-kitty is always annoyed with me,” Clint replied, heading toward the bedroom. “It’s how we bond. Oh man! I was right! That is epic!” Reluctantly, Steve walked up to the bedroom door and looked in. The big bed was piled high with every pilfered cushion and pillow, a dark red blanket thrown haphazardly over top.

“Is Tony under all that, Jarvis?” asked Steve, slightly confused.

“He is.”

Clint was busy taking a picture with his cellphone. Steve circled the bed, trying to find some sign of the dark haired man. “Can he breathe?”

“Blood oxygen levels are within acceptable levels, Captain.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Clint said with a chuckle. “He has an air hole. See? Right there.” He pointed at a gap in the pillows and cushions. Steve leaned close and thought he could hear soft breathing coming from inside.

Steve startled as Clint flipped up the blanket and inspected the den/nest thing. “Clint,” he said warningly. Clint flapped a dismissive hand at him and prodded at a pillow.

“What are you doing to my kотёнок?” Steve jumped and looked back to see Natasha standing in the doorway, a dark and disapproving look on her face.

“I’m not doing anything to your ‘kотёнок’,” Clint snipped snidely.

“Then why did Jarvis summon me saying you were messing with Tony?”

Clint glanced with a frown at the ceiling. “Traitor.”

“I am preforming exactly as I was designed,” Jarvis blandly replied.

“Why are all those pillows and cushions piled on top of Tony’s bed?” asked Natasha.

“Tony-kitty put them there. It’s his nest and or den,” Clint explained.

Natasha hummed. “He must have gotten cold or lonely,” she commented, going around to the other side of the bed.

Steve flinched guiltily, although he couldn’t tell for why. “Why would he be cold or lonely?”

“He’s spent the last few nights sleeping with someone, Steve,” Natasha replied. Her voice was calm but Steve still felt like she was accusing him of something. “He must have been uncomfortable by himself, turned into a new form again.”

“We rather thought he’d be sleeping with you last night. You two went up together,” Clint said. 

Steve dropped his eyes, a faint flush on his cheeks. “No. I uh… We each went to our own floors.” Clint clicked his tongue and Steve looked at him in annoyance, feeling defensive for some reason.

Natasha gently picked up a sofa seat cushion. Her face softened. Clint went around to the other side of the bed and grinned. He pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!” he crowed softly. “I knew Tony-kitty liked me best!” Curious, Steve joined them and looked down into the mound Tony had created. The brunette was curled into the hollow, the Captain America shield plushie smashed against his face. Steve felt something warm rush through his chest. One of Tony’s cat ears twitched and he shivered.

Natasha carefully put the cushion back onto place. “We should…” she started to say quietly but it was too late. The pile of pillows and cushions was already moving. They pushed upward like a mole digging out of the soil and Tony’s head popped out of the top. He looked muzzily around the room until he saw his three teammates standing by his bed. His brow frowned and he trilled at them questioningly. (Whz you doin’?) “Good morning, kотёнок,” Natasha said fondly.

“We were just wondering where all the seat cushions and pillows had gone to,” Clint explained, gesturing down at the heap. Tony blinked down at the pile and yawned, fangs visible. (It’s too early for whining, Clint.) He plucked one of the common floor sofa cushions off the mound and flung it to the floor. Clint went over and stacked all the common floor sofa seat and chair cushions into a tower. Tony meanwhile was rearranging his nest, shoving cushions he was keeping against the headboard and setting pillows in a ring around the end of the bed. The shield plush squeaked loudly when he accidentally leaned on it. Clint reached for one of the throw pillows that usually went on the sofa but Tony slapped his hand with a glare. (Mine!) “Ow! What’s the big idea?” yelped Clint, shaking his hand. Tony growled a little. “Alright! Jesus. Don’t touch the pillows. Got it. Wow. Possessive much?”

Tony kept up his glaring as he smoothed a blanket over the pillow ring. He sat up and grabbed a cushion from a library armchair, dragging it into position with the others. This was when they noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything besides a t-shirt. Steve went completely red as he got a flash of bare skin and the curve of ass before jerking his eyes toward the ceiling. “Kотёнок,” chided Natasha while Clint wailed like his eyes were being burned out of his head. The redhead flicked a sheet up to cover the dark haired man. “Where are your pants?”

“Oh god! My eyes! Assaulted twice in 24 hours! I need bleach. Oh god,” moaned Clint. Tony chittered, cheeks turning a little red. He hadn’t meant to flash them. He’d forgotten he’d taken off the uncomfortable sweatpants. He wound the sheet around his waist like a long noodle and pointed toward where he’d abandoned his sweatpants on the floor. Natasha picked them up while Steve turned stiffly, like a wooden toy soldier, and headed for the door. Clint caught him before he could completely escape and shoved some cushions into his arms. “My poor eyes,” the archer was still complaining. “I’ll never be the same. I did not need to see that much of Tony-kitty ever again. Ugh.” He then herded Steve out of the bedroom with his own load of cushions.

“Why are you not wearing them, Tony?” Natasha asked behind them. There were some beeping sounds as Steve and Clint entered the elevator. “Well, we can fix that,” they heard Natasha say just as the doors closed and the carriage dropped.

“Should we stop at your apartment, Steve?” asked Clint around his armload of cushions, a gleeful note in his voice.

Steve blinked. “What? Why?” he asked, seemingly coming out of a haze.

“So you can take care of your half chub there, big boy,” Clint giggled.

Steve gritted his teeth in irritation, although he couldn’t stop the flush on his face from darkening again. “It is a perfectly normal reaction for an adult male to become excited when presented with even visual stimulation.” He lowered his stack of cushions so they covered his groan region.

“You sound like you’re quoting a 7th grade health pamphlet,” grouched Clint. His eyes narrowed, seemingly unaffected by Steve’s quelling glare as the archer studied the taller blond’s face. Clint groaned, “Oh god. You’re backsliding. Natasha is going to be so disappointed.”

The elevator opened before Steve could react. Bruce blinked at them. “So that’s where all the couch cushions went to,” he said mildly.

“Tony-kitty had them,” Clint said, striding out and tossing his stack on the sofa. “He had a big nest built on his bed.” Steve followed behind with the chair cushions, his face still slightly red and expression put out.

“Ok,” said Bruce, long and low. “And why had Tony built himself a nest with all the cushions and pillows?”

“Don’t know. Maybe he was cold. Maybe he was lonely. Steve kicked him out of bed.”

“I did not kick Tony out of bed!” Steve snapped, shoving the cushion of an armchair into place with more force than necessary. The springs squeaked. “He’s not a cat anymore. He can sleep in his own bed.”

“Tony didn’t sleep with you last night?” Bruce asked, sounding surprised.

“Why does it matter so much to everyone that Tony didn’t sleep in my bed last night?” demanded Steve.

“Um,” Bruce said, looking a little wild eyed and cornered.

Clint cupped his hand over his mouth and leaned toward Bruce, even though there were several feet between the two men. “Steve thinks he’s having just a physical reaction to Tony-kitty,” he mock whispered, speaking much too loudly. “He’s backsliding.”

“Oh dear,” faintly muttered Bruce.

“Oh my god,” Steve growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to hit something and it was probably a good idea if he left before that something he hit was Clint rather than a punching bag. Steve strode toward the elevator and it opened politely.

Tony sleepily blinked up at him, messy haired and rumpled, and Steve came to a screeching halt. The dark haired man meowed up at him and then turned around and presented his back and butt. Steve blinked, mind blank. The old gray sweatpants now had a hole in the seam where Tony sleek black tail stuck out. His tail curled and Tony gave a happy meow, looking over his shoulder with a smile. (Look what Natasha did for me! Now my tail won’t feel like it’s going to fall off after a couple of hours.)

“Turns out the waistband was hurting his tail,” Natasha explained. “I made a space for it.” Tony turned and leaned in close to Natasha’s cheek. The redhead leaned away, brow frowning in confusion and slight warning, and Tony kissed the air where her cheek had been loudly. (You’re my favorite.) Tony chirped at her. “You’re welcome,” Natasha said, catching his meaning and relaxing. She walked out of the elevator. “What’s for breakfast?” As soon as she was past the frozen Steve, she looked at Clint and jerked her head questioningly at the super soldier. Clint shook his head, giving her a thumb down sign while sticking out his tongue. Natasha frowned in response. Bruce took the opportunity to flee to the kitchen.

The elevator dinged quietly, which was Jarvis’ polite way to tell whoever was loitering inside to move as someone was in need of the elevator on a different floor. Steve stepped back automatically and Tony skipped out, headed toward the kitchen. The elevator closed and Steve could hear the carriage rise. Clint forced the last sofa cushion into place and headed for the kitchen as well. “Come on, Steve! Breakfast time!” he shouted over his shoulder. Obediently, Steve followed.

Natasha had pulled juice and milk from the fridge and was pouring drinks. She pushed a glass of milk along the kitchen island and Tony hopped up onto his stool. He trilled at her in thanks and lifted the glass. Steve smiled as Tony lapped at the milk, scowled, adjusted, and began to drink normally. Clint was pulling a carton of eggs and a package of bacon from the fridge. “Here, you do the eggs and I’ll cook up the bacon,” said the archer, shoving the eggs gently into Steve’s belly.

The super soldier sighed softly. “I was kind of going to head out for a while,” he complained. Tony’s cat ears twitched around and he meowed. When the blond looked at him, Tony patted the counter with his palm and gave Steve a pleading look. (Come on! Stay? You make the best scrambled eggs and I’m hungry.) The tightness around Steve’s eyes softened.

“Tony-kitty has spoken,” Clint said, thrusting a pan at Steve. “Get crackn’.” Steve sighed again but did as asked.

Thor came ambling into the kitchen a moment later. “Good morn, my friends,” he said around a yawn. Instead of the armor he was wearing yesterday, today he was in jeans and a gray t-shirt that strained around his biceps. Everyone echoed the greeting, Tony murring. Natasha moved the toaster to the island and set up an assembly line of toast making. She would put the bread in, Bruce would remove the done toast, and Tony would butter the slices. Thor got himself a glass of orange juice and sat, selecting a piece of buttered toast to munch on. Soon, there was a tower of toast.

Steve cracked the whole egg carton into the pan and scrambled them while Clint made crispy strips of bacon. The coffee pot gurgled on the counter and Tony excitedly got up to get some. Bruce and Thor chuckled as the brunette reverently poured the rich coffee into a mug and carefully added his preferred amount of sugar and cream. He sat back down and lifted the mug to his nose, inhaling the steam. Almost 3 weeks of being denied coffee. It had been torture without the sweet ambrosia. Everyone watched indulgently as Tony took his first sip.

Tony had expected it to be hot, that wasn’t the problem. What he hadn’t expected was the bitterness to sting his taste buds and the acidity to scorch the back of his throat. He choked, eyes widening, and spat it back into the cup. Tony sputtered and let out a little wail of grief. (Noooo! Not coffee too!) Chicken wings and soda had been bad enough but to take away his life blood was just unthinkable. Bruce patted him on the shoulder with a wince. “There, there, Tony. It’s not that bad,” he soothed. Tony glared at him. (Not that bad? Not that bad! How can you say that?) He took a few gulps of milk to soothe his tongue. 

Steve tossed a pot holder onto the island and set the pan of eggs on top of it. “It will be ok, Tony,” he said, toughing the dark haired man’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll have you fully turned back into a human soon and you can drink all the coffee your want then.”

“Ugh, don’t say that to him,” Clint protested, setting a paper towel lined platter full of bacon on the island. “I’m not sure if it’s possible to overdose on coffee but I’m sure Tony will find a way.” Tony wrinkled up his nose and trilled at the archer, insulted. Steve rolled his eyes, fetching a big serving spoon for the eggs. Bruce passed around plates and everyone dished up their own food. Tony sandwiched his eggs and bacon between two buttery pieces of bread and ate it all together.

“What shall we do today, friends? A marathon of movies?” asked Thor, piling his plate high with eggs.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need to hit the gym,” Natasha replied. She rolled her shoulders. “I’m getting stiff from all this waiting around.”

“Same. Target practice,” Clint added. “Can’t let myself get rusty.”

“Aye, a day of sport does sound enjoyable,” Thor agreed. “Shall everyone be joining us?”

“Probably not a good idea,” Bruce sheepishly denied. “The Hulk does not make a good sparring partner and I have a few things to finish in the lab.” Tony pointed a finger at him with a chirp. (Me too! Workshop time for me. I have thumbs again!)

“What of you, Captain?”

Steve was pushing his eggs around his plate, not much of it making it into his mouth. He started a little as Thor questioned him and had to run through the last few seconds of conversation in his mind. Thank God the super serum gave him a super memory even if he wasn’t paying attention. “Yeah, I could use some time in the gym. It would be good to work off some of this extra energy.” Mostly he just wanted some time with a punching bag to work off his frustrations.

“Yay, we get to beat each other up!” enthused Clint. Natasha shook her head at him with a grudging smile, as if embarrassed that she was amused.

They finished breakfast. Everyone dumped their dishes in the sink. Bruce wandered off to his lab while the others headed back up to their floors to change into workout gear. Steve turned on the water and began to rinse off the plates and used cutlery. Tony came up alongside him with the dirty egg pan and meowed softly, smiling with a hint of fang. Steve’s lips curled up despite himself and he smiled back. “Going to help me do the dishes again?” Tony trilled, rolling his eyes. (If I have to. Ugh, if only Pepper could see me now. Doing chores. She’d faint in shock.) Like last night, Steve washed and Tony dried. The brunette’s tail swayed slowly in contentment behind him.

When they were done, Steve drained the sink and wiped the counter down with a towel before looking uncomfortably at Tony. He didn’t know how to act toward the other man now that they were alone and Steve understood that he found Tony… appealing. The brunette was fishing his cellphone from his pocket and didn’t notice. Tony tapped on the screen for a moment. ‘ _Workshop. Bye_ ,’ the device said in stilted words.

Steve started. “Oh. Sure thing. I’ll see you later?” He didn’t mean for the last part to come out sounding like a question. Tony nodded and chirruped. He trotted away with a wave, disappearing into the elevator to head down to his workshop. Steve waved back stupidly. He slapped his open palm against his face as the elevator doors closed and sighed at himself. “So much for not being awkward,” he muttered.

“Captain, the others are wondering if you are still going to join them in the gym?” asked Jarvis.

Steve groaned a little to himself. He wanted to avoid Natasha right now, knowing she'd make an issue about his nonexistent feelings for Tony, but he'd already said he'd spar with them. “Yeah, I'm coming.” He slipped into the emergency stairwell rather than take the elevator and took the steps three at a time up to his floor to chance into workout gear and grab his duffle bag.


	21. TWENTYONE

Steve entered the gym warily. He sort of expected to be jumped as soon as he got in the doorway but the others all seemed to be preoccupied in other parts of the gym already. Through the huge windows Steve could see Clint moving nimbly through an obstacle course. He was jumping and leaping between perches as a set of flying target spheres Tony has made flew around. Natasha was on the mats, moving through a routine with a practice dummy. Thor was working with the weights with a look of concentration on his face, hair tied back. The weights were a special set Tony had designed to be much heavier than normal weights. They were heavy enough to give even a god and a super soldier a workout.

Steve relaxed a little. He dumped his bag on a bench and dug out his tape, wrapping up his hands. The first punch to the bag felt good and Steve settled into a steady rhythm. Each thud of his fists traveled up his arms and made his shoulders ache but it was an ache he welcomed. He let his mind go blessedly blank as he struck the punching bag over and over. Like everything else in the gym, the bag had been designed by Tony and could withstand a fair amount of even super soldier abuse. Steve worked up a sweat, gradually increasing his strength as he clinched his teeth with the annoyance and embarrassment rolling in his chest.

It was a surprise when the bag burst, spilling the special white pellets Tony used in them onto the floor. Steve stepped back as the rapidly emptying bag swung wildly. “Damnit,” he muttered. He rarely forgot himself like that anymore. Four vacuum bots zipped from their docks and set to work cleaning up the mess. Steve knew that Tony would recycle the pellets the bots picked up into new bags. He glanced around the gym.

Thor had moved onto the obstacle course. He had been impressed with now agile Natasha and Clint were when fighting and was determined to gain the same skills. As Steve watched, Thor leapt a low wall and landed heavily on the other side, almost over balancing and falling to his knees. The god recovered and continued on. Clint had taken his place with the weights, using the normal set to do bicep curls. Natasha was running smoothly on a treadmill. Satisfied, Steve unhooked the broken bag and replaced it with a new one.

Steve knuckles stung and he looked down to find little dots of blood on the tape and sighed. He pulled the tattered tape off, the skin splits on his knuckles quickly healing over. He looked up and almost jumped a foot in the air. Natasha let her eyes drift slowly down Steve’s body and then slowly back up, looking unimpressed. “You and me. Mats. Now,” she ordered. She turned delicately on a heel and walked back to the sparring mats.

Steve was so surprised by the hard, flat tone of Natasha's voice that he followed her without thinking. He expected a lecture. He expected a demand to know what he had been thinking. He expected Natasha to pry her way into his mind until he didn’t know which way was up. Steve did not expect Natasha to leap at him the second they were on the mats and climb him like the cat tree on the common floor. He yelped as she wrapped her thighs around his neck and yanked back with all her body weight, twisting him to the floor.

They hit the mats with a loud smack. Steve flailed around, trying to loosen Natasha’s hold on him, but she merely grunted and continued to choke him with her legs. Over at the weights, Clint winced in sympathy. Steve knew he could pull Natasha’s legs from around his neck, she was nowhere near strong enough to resist him, but he didn’t actually want to hurt her. “Tasha!” he croaked when all his wiggling and rolling got him nowhere. The redhead gave one more vicious squeeze and released him. 

Steve wheezed in air while Natasha climbed to her feet. “Again?” she asked sweetly. Steve groaned.

They spent several minutes throwing each other around. Natasha was quick and nimble and used her superior flexibility to twist Steve up into a pretzel and bring him down. If Steve could get his hands on her, he could easily toss her to the mat and pin her. No amount of eel like wiggling would get her out of his hold when he had her and she had to tap out to be released. They rolled to their feet, breathing a bit accelerated and hair a little damp from sweat. “Is this a punishment?” Steve gritted out. Behind them, Clint had taken over with the practice dummy and Thor was now running on the treadmill but Steve knew both were really watching him and Natasha.

“Nope.” Natasha swept in low and Steve grunted as he took the hit on his thigh. He grabbed her foot and threw her away but she merely flipped into it and up onto her feet.

“What is this, then?” Steve demanded as they circled each other. “Are you mad I don’t agree with you?” He threw a series of punches that had Natasha dancing backward to avoid.

“Mildly annoyed but I’m not mad,” replied Natasha. She turned out of Steve’s attempted grab and jabbed at his kidneys. “You are allowed to think whatever you want no matter what advice I give, even if I do think you’re being a cowardly moron.” Steve’s foot kicked out and tangled with hers. Natasha landed on the mat but rolled away before Steve could get ahold of her and pin her down.

“How is me respecting Tony and Miss Potts’ relationship cowardly? Just because I find Tony attractive doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

Natasha leapt on his back and Steve stumbled but stayed on his feet. “You’ve found people attractive before, Steve. Clint, you find attractive. Me, you find attractive. Even Thor gets a look or two sometimes.” She could see the embarrassed flush working its way up Steve’s neck as he tried to toss her over his shoulders. “It’s no big issue. You think we look nice and look sometimes. It’s flattering, really.” He finally got a hand around her upper arm and flung her away. She rolled and sprang up. “But you look at Tony differently. Those looks are fond; those looks have feeling behind them. You are doing more than admiring Tony’s ass when you look at him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and then quickly had to block Natasha’s punch. “I think you’re seeing things,” he said. “I know what love feels like and I don’t feel like that with Tony.”

“No, you know what infatuation feels like,” Natasha replied. She slapped away Steve’s kick and tried to dart in for a hit to his torso but had to duck away as he grabbed for her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steven snapped.

“You know what it means,” huffed Natasha, swiping at his feet.

“You think I didn’t love Peggy? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve spent half a year with Tony when you barely spent a couple of weeks with Peggy Carter, and that time not even consecutively.” Steve’s face was completely red by this point and Natasha retreated as he tried to punch her. “I’m not your damn therapist, Steve, but there are different types of love. How you felt for Peggy Carter is going to be different than how you feel about Tony.” Steve hesitated, a big frown on his face, and Natasha went in for the kill. She darted under his arm, up across his back, and wrapped herself about his torso. The redhead yanked and the pair fell to the mats again, Steve in Natasha’s clutches. “I get that it’s hard,” Natasha growled as Steve writhed in her grasp. “I get that’s it’s new and scary and different.” Natasha gritted her teeth as Steve yanked on her limbs. He was angry enough that he was kind of hurting her but Natasha refused to back down. “But I’m also damn sure that you have feelings for Tony and that there could be something good between you two. And, Steve, are you going to wait and miss your chance again?” The blond froze for a second and Natasha released him quickly. She scuttled away as Steve’s hands slapped the mat after her, trying to grab her. The blond's teeth were bared in anger and his blue eyes were dark. She didn’t know what he would do if he caught her but Natasha bet it was probably something he’d regret later. 

Across the gym, Clint started toward them with wide eyes. Natasha stood a healthy distance away from Steve and looked calmly down at him. The blond was lying on the mats, breathing like a mad bull and glaring up at the redhead. “Shower?” Clint asked, touching her arm lightly. There would probably be bruises later from where Steve had pulled on her that she’d try her best to hide from him. 

“Shower,” Natasha agreed with a nod. They walked across the gym and through the doors to the locker room.

Steve hissed through his teeth and collapsed on his back. Thor stepped off the treadmill and turned it off. Slowly, Steve’s breathing slowed and he sat up, draping his arms over his knees and hanging his head. He made a suspicious sniffle sound. Thor went to him, walking lightly, and rest a hand on his shoulder gently. “Captain…?”

Steve shrugged the hand off his shoulder harshly. “Just leave me alone, Thor,” he snarled thickly. 

Thor took his hand away and nodded a little sadly. “As you wish, Captain.” He left the gym, leaving Steve sitting on the sparring mats.

(**)

Natasha allowed herself to start limping as the doors to the locker room closed behind them. Clint stepped close and she leaned on him as they made their way to a bench. She sat and hitched her right leg up to rest on the seat. “Is it badly hurt?” asked Clint, working to get her shoe off.

Natasha wiggled her toes and shook her head. “A slight sprain. Some bruising. I'll be fine.”

Clint was relieved she was ok and then anger rushed in to replace the void worry had left. “That dickwad! He could have really hurt you!”

“He could have but he didn’t,” Natasha said reasonably. She dropped her aching foot to the floor, straddling the bench, and leaned forward to rest her forehead on Clint’s shoulder. She sighed. “I hate being mean to our friends,” Natasha mumbled. 

Clint stroked her hair and shrugged with the shoulder she wasn’t using. “Tough love.”

“I really do think that Steve and Tony would make a good pair.”

Clint nodded. “We all do. Steve needs someone to take care of and Tony-kitty needs someone to take care of him. Do you really think Potts is going to break up with Tony-kitty?”

Natasha sighed and lifted her head. “Yes, and probably soon. Tony has been mostly human for about a day. Do you know where Pepper is?” Clint shook his head. “Philadelphia. Tony tried to call her yesterday and she wouldn’t take his call. Jarvis had to send text messages.”

Clint sucked in air through his teeth. “That’s not good.”

“No. It is not.”

(**)

Inside the elevator, Tony punched in the speed dial for Pepper on his cellphone. He waited, tail cheerfully swishing, but after a moment the call went to voicemail. Tony pouted. (Oh, come on!) He listened to Pepper’s recording saying to leave a message and waited peevishly for the beep. He then let out a loud demanding yowl followed by a softer curious murr and an impatient chitter before hanging up, message successfully delivered in his opinion.

The elevator opened and Tony skipped out of the carriage happily. He couldn’t wait to get back to his projects. He’d had a few more ideas about that glue arrow he wanted to try and now that he had proper hands again he could whip up a prototype for that mini parachute for Steve. The man needed a protective bubble, what with his love of jumping out of and off of things.

Tony’s good mood lasted until he caught sight of his workshop. The brunette let out a distressed wail, tail puffing up. “The damage is not extensive,” soothed Jarvis. “The damage is mostly centered on the windows and, of course, the dent in the floor as result of the Hulk but the rest of the workshop fared well.” (Fared well! My windows are gone!) Tony took a cautious step through the empty space. (Well, at least they cleaned up the glass.) Everything looked ok. A couple tables were out of place and most of his tools had been put away. The empty pizza boxes were a little confusing. 

There was an excited whirring behind him and Tony turned to find Dummy rushing toward him. (Dummy!) The bot was dragging the string they had been playing with behind him but dropped it as he neared the brunette. Tony caught the bot’s claw in his arms and leaned against the strut. Dummy whistled happily. (I missed you too, buddy.) Something gently grasped his tail and Tony squeaked. He looked back to find Butterfingers latched onto the tip of his new appendage. “Be gentle, Butterfingers,” admonished Jarvis. “That is still attached to Sir and you could hurt him if you are too rough.” The bot beeped and Tony chuckled. (Sorry, guys. Still part kitty cat.)

Butterfingers let go of Tony’s tail and reached toward his head. Tony held still as the bot poked at his cat ears and then began to gently pet between them like they had been taught. Tony chuckled again. It felt good, like a scalp massage, and his eyes went heavy lidded in pleasure. He sank slowly to sit on the floor and both bots took turns caressing the top of their creator’s head. Claw up. Claw down. Stroke. It was hypnotic and it took Tony several minutes to realize he was purring. He stirred, blinking, and the rumbling in his chest cut off. Tony pushed the bots away and yawned, fangs flashing. (That’s enough, guys. I have stuff to do and it’s hard to concentrate when you do that.)

Dummy pushed his claw against Tony’s side and beeped. Tony ran a hand up his arm and smiled. That smile was overtaken by a frown as his fingers found a dent. (When did that happen?) Tony leaned close and scratched at the damage with his fingernail. It was just a dimple in the casing, not harming the bot at all really, but its mere presence irritated Tony. He ran his hands along Dummy’s arm and chassis, finding a couple more dents. His heart sank. (Did you get these when you tried to attack Loki? Oh, brave, poor Dummy.) Tony hugged the bot, ears drooping. Dummy whistled questioningly. (Don’t worry. I can fix you right up.)

Stripping Dummy of his shell was easy and soon Tony was inspecting the bot’s wiring and gears for damage and wear. The bot rested his claw and strut on a special support structure as Tony took a toothbrush and magnifying glass to the tiny components in his arm and framework. (I need to do maintenance on you guys more often.) Tony thought as he picked out a small piece of burnt plastic with some tweezers. Dummy sighed as if in relief.

Tony got a tiny hammer and tapped out the dents. He oiled Dummy’s parts and replaced a few worn gears and screws and put him back together. (There, how does that feel, buddy?) The bot lifted his claw and looked down at himself before beeping happily. He rolled around the workshop in front of his brothers like he was strutting proudly in a new designer suit. You and Butterfingers both whistled at Tony demandingly and he laughed. (Ok! Tune-ups for everyone.) He took each bot apart and cleaned inside. You had little bits of paper caught in his wheels and Tony had Dummy fetch him a can of air so he could remove them. Some sort of hard crust was covering a couple of Butterfingers’ gears and Tony chipped it away with a small chisel. (What have you been getting into?)

By the time Tony was done with all three bots, it was late afternoon and his stomach was demanding food. Something pulled in Tony’s chest and he was just going to say that was hunger. (Back in a little bit, guys.) Tony left the workshop and took the elevator up but, strangely, the common floor was deserted. A little cleaning bot was making orderly passes back and forth across the floor. The big cat tree still stood in front of the windows, bright sunshine glowing across the living room furniture. He meowed, hoping somebody would answer. He peeked into the kitchen but nobody was there either. Tony’s tail and ears drooped. (Where is everybody?) 

Tony wandered over to a glass top side table and tapped the surface. A keyboard appeared and he typed out a question. “Everyone is in their apartments, Sir,” replied Jarvis. “Thor and Captain Rogers are in their respective apartments while Agent Barton and Miss Romanoff are in her apartment.” Tony shifted nervously, feeling agitation creep up his back. His tail lashed behind him. It was strange to find nobody on the common floor. Since he’d been changed into a cat there had at least been someone there during the daytime. Tony grabbed the tip of his tail and worried at it with his fingers. It didn’t feel right, being alone, although he realized logically that he had been alone down in the workshop and been just fine a couple of minutes ago. But some part of him right then was saying that it was bad that he was alone right now and it was making something inside of him knot painfully.

He typed on the side table again. “One moment, Sir.” Tony shifted from foot to foot as he waited for Jarvis’ response. “I’m sorry, Sir, but Captain Rogers does not seem to want company right now,” said the AI, tone devoid of emotion. Tony gave a sad little meow. It wasn’t reasonable to feel rejected and abandoned just because Steve was busy or wanted some time alone but Tony felt crushed by the simple fact that Steve didn’t want him there. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to muscle the irrational emotions down. He was a grown man, for pity’s sake. He wasn’t going to throw a tantrum because somebody didn’t want to play with him.

Dejected, Tony went to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. Food obtained, he left the empty common floor quickly and returned to the workshop. Butterfingers whistled at him in confusion as Tony came back and he patted the bot on his arm. (Just you guys and me tonight, it looks like.) Tony sat at his desk, setting his turkey sandwich down and promptly forgetting about it. He fished out his cellphone and dialed Pepper again. It went to voicemail and Tony meowed softly just once before hanging up. He scrubbed his hands across his face and wiggled his finger in the air to wake up the computers. (Wakey wakey. It’s time to be brilliant.) Tony put the empty common floor out of his mind as he pulled up the files for the glue arrow.

A couple of hours later saw Tony fiddling with a tiny spring, a big round magnifying glass in front of his face. You was holding a spotlight so the beam shone on Tony’s work. The man’s tail hung behind him, gently swaying from side to side as Tony concentrated. Dummy was parked at his back, camera fixed on the twitching tail in fascination. There was a soft crack and the piece of metal Tony was trying to bend broke off and went flying off into the workshop. Tony sat up with a sigh. (Damnit.) He set the miniature pliers and screwdriver he had been using down and rubbed at his temples.

Tony didn’t know what was wrong with him. He couldn’t concentrate and he felt tired, although he knew it was only late evening, not even yet 8pm. There was no way he should feel as listless and drained as he did now. Merely pushing the arrow parts out of the way so Tony could fold his arms on the tabletop and rest his head took more effort than it should. He sighed, an ear flicking, and thought about dragging himself upstairs to bed and his nest of pillows and cushions. 

“Sir?” Jarvis asked tentatively. Tony dredged up a meow to acknowledge the AI. “Miss Potts is upstairs in the penthouse and would like to speak with you.” Tony jumped off his stool and raced out of the workshop, suddenly grinning and full of energy. Dummy reared his arm up into the air in surprise and clacked his claw as the dark haired man disappeared into the elevator. You dutifully remained in his position, shining the light down onto the workbench.


	22. TWENTYTWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for how long this took. The next couple of chapters were a pain and I'm not completely happy with them but at this point I'm sick of looking at them, so good enough. Then I had a spat of non-motivation to write and it was horrible.
> 
> I did go back to the last chapter and change just the time that Pepper shows up. It's now a little before 8pm, instead of 9pm. Not a big deal but I'm was trying to get everything lined up.
> 
> I feel like I've written one part of this before but for the life of me I can't bloody find it to check. So, if some of Steve's mutterings to himself sound familiar, it's probably because I've written it before but can't be sure. Sorry. Also, I suck at introspection and Steve is a butt to write. He's dealing with a mix of internalized homophobia, shyness, and respect for another person's relationship. Oh boy.
> 
> And now, on with the show!

Steve sat on the sparring mats for a long moment after Thor had left. His mind was buzzing with the static of anger and the sharp bite of anguish. It was a confusing mix of emotions and Steve felt almost nauseous with it. When he felt less like he was going to explode, Steve rolled to his feet and stormed out of the gym, grabbing his bag and banging out of the doors. He heard the door handles crunch into the drywall but ignored it. The elevator doors opened for him. “My floor,” Steve ordered before Jarvis could inquire. The blond felt like he’d fly apart at the seams if the AI spoke.

The elevator took Steve to his floor and he stomped out, throwing his bag at a chair. The seat rattled back a couple of inches. Steve dropped onto his couch and dragged his hands over his face and then raked his fingers up into his hair. He hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees. His right leg jittered uncontrollably.

How dare Natasha bring Peggy into this! What he felt for Tony was nothing like what he had felt for Peggy! And calling him a coward was unbelievable! How was it cowardly to respect another person’s relationship? Tony and Pepper were together and Steve’s little spat of lust was beside the issue. And what business was it of Natasha’s what Steve felt? He didn’t go around prying into her personal life!

Steve shoved himself to his feet and paced around his living room. He rolled his shoulders and tried to calm down. Panic was beginning to seep cold and sharp up his spine and Steve couldn’t even tell why. What Natasha had said was inconsequential. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t going to enter into a queer relationship with the dark haired man no matter how much Natasha pushed. Steve could feel the world closing in around his head, the weight of 70 years lost pressing down on his shoulders.

Steve didn’t know how long he roamed restlessly around his apartment, thoughts troubled and chaotic, but he figured it was close to a couple of hours before Jarvis politely cleared his digital throat. Steve jerked in surprise and looked up from where he was rearranging his paints. “Captain, Sir is inquiring as to whether or not he may come up to join you?” the AI asked.

Steve blinked and rubbed his palm across his mouth. “I, uh…” He tried to think but he wasn’t much calmer than he had been after sparring with Natasha. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jarvis, but no, not right now.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Jarvis replied, disappointment clear in his voice. Steve winced, guilt twisting in his chest. He sighed and scowled. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t want company. So what if he was a little out of sorts?

The blond needed to get out of there. Clear his head. Steve changed his shoes, yanking on the laces hard enough to almost snap them, and slipped his cellphone and wallet into his pockets by habit. The elevators took him down, the AI tellingly silent, and Steve jogged out of the lobby doors onto the busy New York streets and took off toward Central Park.

It was late afternoon as Steve entered the park and chose a path at random. It wasn’t very likely that he would get lost even if he wasn’t paying any attention to the direction his feet were carrying him. He had the whole park memorized and his sense of direction was perfect thanks to the serum. He took off as fast as his legs could carry him, the trees swallowing him up easily.

For a short time, Steve was able to quiet his mind. The repetitive motion of exercise had always helped him after waking up from the ice. Mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other was easy. He followed a pathway down into the forested Ramble and headed from one end of the park to the other. Steve could feel himself calming down, the heat of anger burning itself out. Natasha was his friend and she was just doing what she thought was best, even if Steve thought she was way off base this time. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Sometimes her Red Room training meant she found people’s soft parts a little too easily.

But a flare of fury rose in his chest again when he thought of Natasha belittling his relationship with Peggy. Peggy deserved better than to be called an infatuation. Steve slowed in his headlong rush down a trail and bent over to rest his hands on his knees, breathing hard to both calm down from his run and get ahold of his emotions. Steve didn’t know why Natasha insisted that he and Tony would make a good fit. He didn’t feel that way about Tony and it was a moot point regardless with his relationship with Miss Potts. It didn’t matter and Steve didn’t understand why Natasha was needling him about it or why he himself couldn’t seem to stop rolling the thought around his brain.

Steve stood and headed down the pathway again, this time at a more reasonable jog. He tried to order his thoughts. So, he found men attractive. No big deal. He’d known that back in the 1930’s. Sort off. He hadn’t paid the attraction much attention, for obvious reasons. The fact that he could, you know, with a guy now and it was acceptable, er, well, at least it wasn’t likely to get him tossed in jail, was kind of mind blowing. Not that it mattered. Steve wasn’t about to go for a guy. How does that work, anyway? Asking a guy out? Did you just go up to someone and ask? Wasn’t that awkward? Well, more awkward than asking a girl out?

Steve snorted at himself. It didn’t matter. He had no desire to have dinner and see a show with a fella. So, again, moot point. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about this still. It completely didn’t matter. The trail Steve was on ended and he joined a larger, more crowded walkway, still jogging along and focused on his own inner thoughts. All he had to do was calmly, rationally explain to Natasha that a relationship with Tony was just not going to happen and she’d back off. The redhead was reasonable. Once she understood Steve’s total lack of interest in a relationship with Tony and how inappropriate her insisting on it was, she’d find some other project to focus on and leave him alone.

Steve stumbled. His attention jerked to the side and one foot caught on the other, almost sending him colliding with a park bench. He cursed at himself under his breath. He thought he’d seen Tony walking down the pathway and that hadn’t been that surprising, if not a little weird on the timing, until Steve’s brain kicked in and reminded him that as of this morning, Tony still had cat ears and a tail. Steve opened his mouth, ready to yell at the other man for walking about in public LIKE THAT, when he realized how stupid he was being. It was just a man, dark hair cut in a style similar to Tony, walking through busy Central Park on a nice evening.

The man merely looked a little like Tony. Steve blew out a breath and shook his head at himself. He was being ridiculous. The Tony lookalike wandered down the walkway and then into the arms of another man. Steve froze at this, nonplussed, and then recovered enough to snort in self-derision. Honestly, it wasn’t like him to gape at other people or be so easily rattled. What did he care if a couple greeted each other in public, even if they were the same sex? Then the Tony lookalike tilted his head up a little and the other man leaned down a little and the two kissed. A wave of some emotion rose in Steve, bitter and hot and baffling.

The two men separated, smiling at each other, and, honestly, the dark haired man looked nothing like Tony, he was clean shaven and the nose and chin were all wrong, and the other guy had reddish-brown hair and Steve had no idea why his chest was twisted up in want and envy at the sight of them. Steve felt uncomfortably like a voyeur as the pair hugged and forced himself to stop staring and start stiffly walking away.

Steve glanced back when he was some distance away but the couple was just standing there talking to each other now. Even that sent another spike of emotion through him. Steve scowled at himself. What was wrong with him? Why was he reacting with what felt like jealousy to two strangers simply greeting each other? A group of teenage boys cursed at him as Steve blundered through their group and the blond man stumbled off the walkway to stand in the grass. He looked at the couple again, frowning. He watched them head to a soft pretzel stand, purchase two, and then wander over to a bench to sit down and eat, sitting pressed together even though there was plenty of room.

A young woman with an eyebrow ring started giving Steve the stink eye from the bench next to the couple and Steve couldn’t figure out why for a moment until it dawned on him that he’d been glowering at the two men for several minutes. He dropped his eyes, ran his fingers through his hair in embarrassment, and headed off down the walkway quickly. His stomach rumbled, reminding Steve that it was fast approaching the evening hours and he hadn’t eaten since before noon. He followed his nose to a hot dog cart and bought three.

This was all Natasha’s fault, Steve thought as he wolfed down his hot dogs. He wouldn’t even be thinking about relationships, let alone relationships with other men, if it wasn’t for her prodding. That Clint and Bruce were on board with the whole concept didn’t help matters. A skinny man and a young black woman with her hair in braids sat down at a picnic table a couple feet away from Steve and started kissing. Steve felt beset on all sides. Were there always so many couples in New York and he just hadn’t noticed before now or was the world just out to highlight the fact that he didn’t have a significant other tonight particularly? Why did seeing two people curled close together send such sharp pains through his chest now?

Steve tossed the cardboard boats from his hot dogs into the trash and took off toward the Tower at a quick run. He been gone for most of the afternoon and into the evening and the anger and annoyance that had filled him was now cold and heavy like wet ashes. Now, longing and loneliness left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. It made the hot dogs settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

Steve exited Central Park and made quick time back to the Tower, dodging the heavy evening traffic with ease. He slowed as he entered the lobby of the building, which was crowded with late working office personnel trying to leave for the day. Steve slipped past the potted plants to their private elevator in the corner of the lobby behind the security desk, flashing the reception workers and guards his badge even if they did barely glance at it. The elevator took a long moment to arrive and Steve was grateful when the doors opened.

The carriage rose, bearing Steve up the Tower to the common floor in a smooth glide. He was going to have to speak with Natasha, he thought as he waited. The redhead needed to understand that she was really making him uncomfortable with her talk and that she was being inappropriate in regards to Tony and Miss Potts. Steve understood she meant well but Natasha just needed to knock it off now. She didn’t need to manipulate him into admitted feelings for Tony, especially when the other man was already in a relationship, and talking about his past was a low blow. She knew Steve was still twisted up about Peggy. Natasha needed to find a new hobby beside Steve’s love life or lack thereof. They would have a calm conversation and the issue would be resolved, Steve promised himself.

Steve stepped off the elevator, satisfied with his plan, only to find a crying Pepper Potts being comforted by Natasha.


	23. TWENTYTHREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! That's right. Two chapters today! I felt so bad about not updating in months, that I made sure I had two chapters ready for posting today.
> 
> Now that chapter 22 is up, I just want to say that I love Peggy Carter. She's awesome. But I don't see the relationship between her and Steve as anything more than infatuation. They barely saw each other in the movie. They love the idea of each other, in my opinion, but didn't know each other enough to really be in a relationship. That's why Natasha said how Steve felt for Peggy was different than what he might feel for Tony and that Steve shouldn't judge one against the other.

Tony fidgeted as the elevator rose toward the penthouse. Nervous, he lifted a hand and swept his tongue across his wrist, attempting to stress groom. He made a face and sputtered as he got a mouth full of oil from where he’d been fixing the bots. (Yuck!) He ran his fingers through his hair. It was clean but unkempt and stuck up in different directions. He fussed with his clothing but no amount of tugging would get the wrinkles in his t-shirt out or remove the grease stains on his knees.

The elevator opened and a smile bloomed across Tony’s face as he caught sight of Pepper. She was sitting on the couch, her attention on her cellphone which she rapidly thumbed through with one hand. Her other hand was up at her mouth where she bit at her fingernails. She’d changed out of whatever business attire Tony knew she had been wearing earlier and was now in a simple pair of jeans and a light blue t-shirt, her hair flowing loose around her shoulders.

Tony trilled softly, trotting happily forward. Pepper looked up and her face did something complicated. There was a touch of relief around her eyes but the twist of her mouth and tensing of her jaw spoke of exasperation, frustration, and weariness. Tony paused, suddenly unsure of his welcome. Pepper sighed deeply. “Oh, Tony,” she muttered. Tony’s ears drooped. It was never a good thing when she ‘oh tony’d him. “This is almost worse.” Pepper drew a long breath through her nose, as if gathering herself, and beckoned to him. “Come here.”

Tony’s tail twitched anxiously behind him as he sat on the couch. Pepper reached up, hand hovering hesitantly in the air, before touching Tony’s hair. She stroked along one pointed ear. “Are you… ok?” she asked, concern in her voice. Tony nodded with a soft murr. Pepper sighed and dropped her hand. “That’s good, at least,” she said faintly. The redhead stared at Tony until he was shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “What am I going to do with you?” Pepper mumbled. She lifted a hand to bite restlessly at her thumbnail again.

Tony chirped, holding up a finger, and got up to hurry into the bedroom. He snatched the computer tablet from the bedside table. His fingers threw across the screen as he sat back down. ‘Frigga will help fix me,’ the digitized voice read out loud.

“Yes, Frigga; the Asgardian queen, the mother of Thor, a god,” muttered Pepper. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose and breathed in and out slowly.

‘Everything will be ok,’ the computer said. Tony looked pleadingly at Pepper, his tail thumping the seat cushions.

“I’m sure it will,” Pepper said, dropping her hand and smiling weakly. Tony returned the smile much more brightly and set the computer aside to reach out for Pepper’s hands. The redhead allowed him to clasp their hands together. Pepper curled her fingers around Tony’s hard and made a little coughing noise in her throat. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch and Tony’s smile collapsed into concern. He trilled questioningly at her. Pepper frowned. “What?”

Tony untangled one hand to tap on the computer screen. ‘Are you ok?’

Pepper nodded, although Tony could see she looked tired. “I’m fine. Just… a lot going on lately.” Tony huffed a laugh and smiled wryly. That had been the understatement of the year. He threaded their hands back together, rubbing a thumb over Pepper’s knuckles. Pepper stared at him but Tony didn’t think anything about it. The new ears and tail were a little disconcerting if you weren’t used to it. “Tony…?” Pepper asked before trailing off. He chirped at her, cocking his head. “Are you,” she continued, “…happy here?” Tony’s ears flicked in confusion but he nodded easily. “Yeah, ok. I knew that.” Pepper paused, chewing her lip. “I just… Why are you happy here?”

Tony looked even more confused and made to pull his hands away. Pepper released him and he picked up the computer to type. ‘I just am,’ the computer said for him. ‘I really like everybody and they seem to at least put up with me.’ Tony shrugged one shoulder with a dry smile, like he didn’t know how that had happened. ‘I am doing good here, making up for my mistakes, and the others are really great. It is nice having everybody here.’

Pepper nodded as the computer fell silent. “You’re dedicated to being Iron Man,” she said, seemingly to herself. Tony nodded in agreement. “It’s probably the only thing you’ve stuck with for more than a couple months,” Pepper said with a hollow chuckle. Tony’s face tightened at that, embarrassed and ashamed. Pepper patted his knee as if sensing she’d struck a nerve. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess it’s a good thing, that you’re focused on doing good as Iron Man. The world needs more heroes.”

She was staring at him again and Tony’s ears twitched in unease. “It’s not like it was, huh?” Pepper said. “Before all this started? You… You’ve grown.” She paused again and Tony looked at her with concern. He meowed questioningly and Pepper blinked. “Yeah, you’ve grown. Become a new person.” To Tony’s intense horror, her eyes began to grow wet. He grabbed for her hands again and chirped worriedly. Pepper gave a watery laugh. “The problem is, I think you’ve grown and become a new person without me.”

Tony’s eyes widened and he shook his head hard. He let go of one of her hands to type on the tablet screen. ‘That is not true. I love you,’ the device said emotionlessly.

“And I love you,” Pepper echoed back. “But, Tony, I don’t think we make a very good couple.”

Tony’s fingers danced frantically across the tablet screen. ‘We make an awesome couple.’ He scowled at the device for a second. Its stilted voice was wholly inadequate for conveying feeling.

Pepper shook her head, smiling a little painfully. “When was the last time we went out on a date? Or spent the night in the same bed, for that matter? When was the last time we spent any time together that wasn’t Stark Industries related?”

Tony looked lost and stricken and looked toward the ceiling pleadingly. “Your last date was 5 weeks and 3 days ago, Sir, when you and Miss Potts had lunch at Café Centro downstairs before attending the Quarterly Budget Meeting on Floor 34 of the Tower. The last time Miss Potts slept on premises was 6 weeks and 2 days ago, when you and she arrived back from the London trip,” reported Jarvis dutifully.

Pepper put a hand on Tony’s shoulder as he gave her a devastated look. “It’s ok. It’s my fault too. But, Tony, it says something that we’ve fallen into that routine and just didn’t notice.”

Tony snatched up the computer. ‘I can do better. We can go out on more dates and spend more time together.’

“Tony,” Pepper said softly, a touch of pleading in her voice. “I’ve thought long and hard about this and I think it would be better if you and I didn’t continue on as a couple.” A tear swelled from her eye and she quickly swiped it away before it could roll down her cheek. Tony gave a little moan and shook his head feverishly. “We’re just going through the motions right now. We’re not acting like a couple, we’re not together like a couple. I think we’re just saying we are out of habit and because it’s convenient,” Pepper muttered.

They were both clutching each other’s hands hard enough to hurt but neither seemed to mind. Their fingers were white with the pressure. Pepper gave a short, wet laugh, although nothing about this was funny. “I don’t think it’s fair to both of us, the way things are.” Tony sniffled and nodded dejectedly. Pepper swallowed hard. “I think we’ve… I’ve put this distance between us,” she said roughly.

Tony frowned at her and shook his head. ‘I didn’t do anything to bridge the gap either,’ the computer said.

“Maybe,” Pepper allowed with a shrug. Her face grew tighter. “But I know I started that gap after The Battle of New York. Tony, I couldn’t… Every time…” She coughed on a sob and cleared her throat. Tony shifted forward and wrapped his arms around her. Pepper leaned forward and buried her face in his shoulder. “Every time you get hurt or something happens I just can’t take it,” she gasped, as if the words hurt her to say. Tony tensed and Pepper tightened her hold so he couldn’t pull away. This would be easier to say if she wasn’t looking him in the eye. “I’m so worried and afraid when Jarvis tells me you’ve been hurt in a fight. It’s like the whole world loses its warmth.”

Tony rubbed at her back and squeezed his eyes shut in pain. “Then I get so angry,” Pepper hissed. Tony meowed, not understanding. “I get angry because you are out there fighting and getting hurt and being Iron Man and I don’t know how to fucking cope.” They both jerked a little. Pepper cursed so rarely that it was surprising when she did. She coughed again, trying to get the lump out of her throat. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what to do. They didn’t teach ‘How to be a Superhero’s Girlfriend’ at Brown University,” Pepper said with an upset snort. “And I feel absolutely horrible then. It hurts so much and I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I put some distance between us, hoping to get my head on straight, I think, and then it just became habit and neither of us seemed to mind or do anything about it and I really didn’t notice and I didn’t mean to but that’s just how things ended up and…” She was rambling and Tony squeezed her with a soft meow. Pepper’s words stumbled to a stop. “I just can’t take it anymore,” she whispered after a moment.

Tony twisted around to grab the computer tablet. ‘I can…’ it started to say.

Pepper quickly slapped her palm over the tiny speaker, the rest of the words muffled. “No, Tony. No. You’re going to promise to stop being Iron Man and that is the last thing I want.” Tony looked up at her in desperation and sadness. Pepper sighed and rubbed at her red cheeks. She always got so blotchy when she got emotional. “Earth needs Iron Man,” she said, sounded resigned. “Remember what you told me Fury said? The Avengers were created to handle threats SHIELD never could. What would happen if there were more aliens? Who is going to stand up to the next Loki? There will be more threats that the Avengers will need to handle and you have to be there.” Tony wilted as she spoke, looking at her with teary eyes. His ears drooped and his tail was curled unhappily around his hip. “The world needs Iron Man and so do you,” Pepper said softly. Tony started to shake his head and she reached up to cup his cheek. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be miserable if you tried to stop being Iron Man.”

Tony dropped his gaze to the couch cushions. “I thought so,” Pepper said gently. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against Tony’s, her thumb stroking his cheek. “I couldn’t do that to you. You are Iron Man, remember? I didn’t understand that at first but I do now. You want so much to redeem yourself, to do good. I could tell you you’ve done enough until I’m blue in the face but you’d never believe me. You’d always be thinking of what you could have done to help, those people you could have saved if you had been there. It would drive you insane to be grounded. I’d hate to think you might start resenting me if I tried to take that away from you.”

‘I would never,’ said the cold computer voice.

“You’d try,” Pepper whispered, “just like I tried not to feel angry and overwhelmed. Do you think you’ll succeed any better than I did?” Tony sniffled and shook his head with a tiny mew. Pepper pulled her head back and dropped her hand with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take the worry and the frustration and the stress. I run your company, Tony. I have enough stress without my boyfriend flying a highly sophisticated mechanical suit into dangerous situations.” A minuscule smile flitted across her face and quickly disappeared. She closed her eyes. “One day I fear you won’t come back.” The redhead swiped away some more tears.

Tony tapped on the tablet. ‘I will always come back.’

“You can’t promise that and you know it,” Pepper snapped, a little anger coloring her tone. Tony looked down again and Pepper sighed, forcing her shoulders to relax.

‘I love you,’ the computer said impassively.

“And I love you,” Pepper responded fiercely. She impatiently wiped another tear away. “I will always love you, Tony. You are my best friend and we’ve known each other for over 10 years. I don’t think we’ll ever be rid of each other.” Her mouth quirked up. “We’re like bad pennies.”

Tony snorted and shook his head. He ran his wrist across his eyes and blinked hard. ‘Is this the end then?’

“The end?” Pepper echoed. “No. Just a change of direction, I think. We’ll still be friends and coworkers and everything, just not a couple.” She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “It won’t be too different,” she said reassuringly. Tony nodded, looking down at the tablet in his lap and picking at a corner of the device. Pepper placed a hand on his arm and the brunette reluctantly looked up at her. “It will be better this way, less painful for us both from now on. Everything will be ok,” repeating his words to her. Tony gave a sad and disbelieving nod. They sat there on the couch for a long minute, absorbing the shock of what had happened.

Pepper dropped her hand and swallowed. “I’m…” She paused. “I’m going to go.”

Tony roused himself to type on the computer. 'Do you have a place to stay?'

“Yeah. I've been using the executive suite we have reserved at the Hilton.” Pepper stood, clearing her throat and sniffling. Tony dragged himself to his feet with her. His tail hung limp and still against his legs. “Oh, Tony,” muttered Pepper. Tony caught himself before he could flinch. The redhead stepped close and hugged him tightly. Tony wrapped his arms around her in return. “We just didn't work out, is all,” Pepper muttered into his ear. “We tried and we just didn't work out. I'm sorry. It will be better this way.” Tony nodded, his face half buried in Pepper's neck. She pulled away and Tony released her. She kissed his cheek and picked up her bag. “I'll call in a little while. Get some sleep. It's been a rough evening.”

Tony meowed in acknowledgement as Pepper made her way to the elevator. It opened and she stepped inside, turning to give him one last wane smile before the doors closed and the carriage dropped. Tony waved a little before she disappeared from sight. For a couple of moments, he stood in the living room, staring at the elevator doors with slow tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Sir? Do you require anything?” prompted Jarvis. Tony sniffled and shook his head. He headed for his bedroom, wiping his wet face, and gathered up the pillows and cushions that were on his bed. The brunette piled it up and wiggled under it, pulling and yanking on the blankets until he had a nice den surrounding him. Tony then sighed and closed his eyes, quiet little sobs breaking past his lips. Jarvis listened to the soft sounds of sorrow his creator were making. “For what it is worth, Sir, I am sorry about the end of your relationship with Miss Potts,” the AI said. There was no response from the bed.


	24. TWENTYFOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments everyone. They made my whole week. I love you all.
> 
> Just a short chapter this week. Steve just didn't have anymore to say.
> 
> Hopefully, I will have another chapter up next weekend. (fingers crossed)

When the elevator opened onto the common floor; Natasha, Clint, and Bruce looked up from where they were watching TV. Pepper was dressed in casual clothing, which was odd enough to see on the business woman, but her blotchy complexion and wet eyes were much more alarming. She froze when she saw the group. Natasha stood and headed for the other woman. “Pepper? Everything ok?”

“Yes,” Pepper said, her voice scratchy. She coughed and stepped out of the elevator. “I was just talking with Tony. We had some things to discuss.”

Natasha and Bruce looked sympathetic while Clint looked slightly panicked. “I understand,” Natasha said softly.

Pepper dredged up a sickly looking smile. For a moment, it all hung in the air on a tenuous spider's thread. Then Pepper's façade broke and her face crumpled. Her bag thumped to the ground as she covered her face with her hands and let out a sob. “Oh god, Natasha. I broke up with him,” she moaned.

Natasha made a tutting noise and wrapped her arms around the other woman. “It’s okay, Pepper. I know it was hard but you did the right thing for yourself,” Natasha muttered. Pepper leaned against her and let out another sob. Natasha looked at Clint and then cut her eyes to the elevator. The archer tiptoed past the two women. Bruce shifted awkwardly on the couch, sympathy in his eyes. The other elevator, the one leading down to the rest of the Tower and street level, opened and Steve took a few steps out. He froze as he caught sight of the redheads, confusion overtaking his expression. Natasha looked at him impassively as she rubbed Pepper’s back.

“I can’t believe I broke up with him,” Pepper gasped wetly into Natasha’s shoulder. She hiccuped softly. “I didn’t think I’d be able to go through with it.”

Natasha watched as Steve’s face paled. “It was the right decision for you to make if you weren’t happy in the relationship, Pepper. It’s better that it ends like this than some way more painful later on,” Natasha soothed.

“I just couldn’t take it,” Pepper mumbled on. “I just couldn’t take being on the sidelines when he went out as Iron Man, not knowing if he’d come back in one piece or not at all. I’m not strong enough. I feel horrible. I love him but I wasn’t strong enough to take being a superhero’s girlfriend.”

“I understand,” Natasha said.

Pepper laughed wetly. “I guess you were right, I just couldn’t cope.”

Natasha patted at her back with a faint sigh. “You have to look out for yourself too, Pepper. It wasn’t fair to you to expect you to handle this superhero business. It just would have led to resentment and anger later on. It’s ok.”

Pepper lifted her head, her tears slowing. “You’ll look after him, right?” she begged. “I can’t be around Tony right now. It’s too painful. But he’s going to need support. You’re his friends, you’ll make sure he eats and sleeps and takes care of himself, right?” Her voice was a little manic by the end of her plea, aware how far downhill Tony could tumble if left to himself. “He’ll think this is his fault. Will you make sure he’s ok?”

“Of course, Pepper. We’ll all look after Tony,” agreed Natasha, smiling at the other redhead. Pepper relaxed a little and stepped back, fishing a tissue from her bag to dry her cheeks. “Are you going to be alright?” asked Natasha. “Do you want to go out and get a drink? Watch a movie? I’m free if you need some company.”

Pepper smiled lopsidedly. “Thank you for the offer, but no. I think I’d like some time alone. Maybe do some thinking and calm down.”

“That’s understandable,” Natasha agreed with a nod.

Bruce stood, drawing their attention. “Maybe when you’re feeling better, you can stop by? Perhaps have lunch or dinner with us? There is no reason to be a stranger.”

Pepper looked a little torn at the proposal but finally gave a tiny smile. “I think lunch would be great, Bruce. I’ll let you know when. I leave for Shanghai the day after tomorrow.”

Bruce nodded. “Whenever you are ready and available.”

“Thanks.” Pepper gave a shuddering sigh and pulled herself up to stand straight. “I hope you have a nice evening,” she said a touch formally. 

“Good night, Pepper,” replied Natasha. Bruce echoed the sentiment. Pepper gathered herself and headed for the elevator to head down the Tower. She seemed to finally noticed Steve half way across the room. The blond tried to smile but it must have looked as awkward and stunted as it felt because she gave him a weird look before entering the elevator and heading down to the Tower garage.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, that went well,” he muttered.

Steve strode aggressively across the room until he was looming threateningly over Natasha. “Did you just make Miss Potts break up with Tony?” he demanded, his voice a growl. “Why would you do that? How could you do that? I thought Tony and Miss Potts were your friends? Why…?” Natasha could move fast when she wanted to and Steve didn’t even have time to flinch before her open palm struck his face. The slap had enough force to jerk Steve’s head to the side. The redhead then spun on her heel and stormed into the open elevator, her glare hot as brimstone as the doors slid shut.

Steve reached up to cup his stinging cheek in astonishment, glancing over at Bruce. The other man cocked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t look at me, I would have hit you too if you said that to me,” said Bruce. He headed for the kitchen for a cup of tea, ignoring any reaction Steve made.

Steve slunk off to his floor, feeling out of sorts and jumbled. His thoughts and feelings were a tangle of anger and sadness from having witnessed Pepper’s announcement that she’d broken up with Tony and a raw loneliness that had yawned open in his chest during his run. He didn’t know what to think or what to do. He headed toward his bathroom, thinking a shower would be a good idea. “Jarvis?” Steve called as he toed off his running shoes. The AI did not respond and Steve frowned. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain?” replied Jarvis tartly.

“I… um,” Steve said, a little thrown. “Is Tony ok?” 

“Sir is as well as can be expected.”

“I… alright. Does he need anything?”

“No, Captain. Agent Barton is currently with Sir. Your assistance is not needed at this time.”

“Oh.” Steve pressed his knuckles into his sternum and rubbed at the growing aching heaviness there. “Ok then.” He waited a second for some comment from Jarvis but the AI was silent once again. Even more disjointed, Steve undressed and stepped into the shower. He felt like every time he began to get a handle on things, something else came along to rip the rug out from under him. He massaged his forehead as he stood under the pouring shower head. He couldn’t get headaches anymore because of the serum but it felt like his body was making a valiant effort at it anyway.


	25. TWENTYFIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, everybody. I am taking what you are all saying into consideration. Hopefully the next chapter will restore everyone's faith in Natasha.
> 
> I swear, I am never going to post anything that's not already done again. If I had my choice, I'd take a weed whacker to this whole story. I know I could go back and edit it now but I also know I don't have the patience or motivation to do that. I know where I want the story to end up but only a vague idea of how to get there. I really should plot things better than this... (shakes head at self)

The elevator opened on the penthouse level and Clint cautiously stepped out. He did not think he was the right guy for this task but forged ahead anyway. The living room and kitchen area were empty, so Clint headed for the bedroom. He sighed as he found the bed piled with cushions and pillows again. The archer made a face at himself and approached the den. “Tony-kitty?” he called softly as he lifted a pillow carefully. A pair of knees greeted him and Clint replaced the pillow before stepping around the end of the bed. He lifted another pillow and smiled a little sadly as Tony ducked his face away from the intruding light, leaving Clint with the top of his head and his triangle shaped ears.

“Hey there, Tony-kitty,” Clint said gently. He slowly edged his way onto the corner of the bed, sitting cross-legged and pulling the pillow he’d removed into his lap. “You doing ok?” The dark haired man merely curled more tightly into a ball in response. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Clint muttered. He rubbed his hands down his face until he was pulling at his mouth and eyelids and then dropped his hands into his lap with a sigh. “Look, I’m going to be straight with you here, Tony-kitty. The bro-code normally dictates that during breakups the non-breakup-ee calls the breakup-ee’s girl or guy a bitch or bastard and they get drunk together.” A low, threatening growl rolled out of the nest. “Yeah, I didn’t think that was the way to go either. Which means, I’m kind of at a loss here. I can’t dis the girl because, well, she’s Pepper Potts.” Clint made a hand gesture that seemed to convey that the redhead’s mere name was enough if an explanation. Tony trilled in response. “Right,” agreed Clint. “And don’t think we haven’t noticed the lack of hard alcohol in this place for the last couple of months.” An ear twitched at him. “So, I’m kind of at a loss of what to do here.”

They sat there in silence for a while, Clint pretending he couldn’t hear the soft sniffling sounds coming from the pile of pillows. Clint chewed his lip. “For what it is worth, this sucks big time and I’m really, really sorry,” the archer muttered. He twisted the pillow in his lap nervously. After a moment he snaked a hand out and scratched at the top of Tony’s head with just the tips of his fingers. “I’m sorry your girlfriend broke up with you, Tony-kitty,” Clint repeated softly. The triangle ears flicked at him and Clint was about to pull his hand away when suddenly Tony pressed up into his touch. A pleased toothy grin crossed Clint’s face and he sank his fingers into the dark hair to really scratch.

(**)

Tony spent a couple of minutes in the darkness and quiet of the cushion and pillow den wallowing in misery and self-pity before he heard the elevator open and Clint call for him. Tony curled up tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to be found. He wanted to be left alone. His insides felt bruised and his head stuffed with cotton. He was aware his face was wet with tears and he did not want the other man to see him in his moment of weakness. The archer would probably tease him forever and Tony didn’t think he’d be able to take that with any amount of grace right now. Just give him a little time to get his walls back up and his game face on and he’d be good to go. Right then, Tony just really wanted to be left alone.

Mean, awful light invaded his sanctuary as Clint removed the pillow over his face and Tony ducked his head down to avoid it. Clint asked him if he was ok and he didn’t bother to answer. (What do you think, birdbrain? I’m not exactly hiding under here for kicks.) Tony sniffled and tried to stop the tears welling up from his eyes, hiding his face against a cushion. Clint rambled above him and Tony gave a warning growl as the archer dared to use a bad word in the same sentence as the name Pepper Potts. (Do not call her that! Pepper is the greatest, most wonderful woman in the whole world. It’s not her fault she got stuck with me.) Tony flicked an ear at him when he mentioned the alcohol because, honestly, they could all stand to drink a little less. (Tequila shots and superhero responsibilities do not mix.) He was doing all of them a favor by getting rid of it, really.

Then Clint did something that stunned Tony a little. The archer threaded his fingers through Tony’s dark hair and said he was sorry in probably the most sincere tone he’d ever heard from the blond. Fresh tears leaked from Tony’s eyes and then the fingers started to retreat. (No! Don’t stop! It feels nice.) He pressed up and Clint took the hint and began to really scratch at his scalp. Tony relaxed a little under the comfort. Pepper breaking up with him still sucked but it sucked a little less with head scratches. It was… nice, not being alone.

Tony must have dozed a little because the next thing he knew voices were talking quietly above his little hidey hole. “He hasn’t said anything,” Clint was muttering. “Not even a single meow.”

“Understandable,” replied Natasha softly. The bed dipped and Tony knew she had climbed up to join Clint. “Even if he could speak, I don’t think he’d be very chatty right now,” she murmured. Blunt fingers were still scratching at his head and Tony meeped and flicked his ears to show he was awake. “Hello, котенок,” Natasha greeted. A second pair of fingers rubbed at Tony’s ears and he chirped at them.

“It is my understanding that it is customary to consume large amounts of ice cream when experiencing the end of a romantic relationship. Perhaps we should follow this tradition?” asked Thor, his voice subdued. It seemed even the Asgardian prince could sense the somber mood.

Fingers pulled at one of Tony’s triangle shaped ears. “How about it, Tony-kitty?” Clint asked. “I could run down to that little creamery in the Village we all like that’s stupidly expensive? Get a couple tubs of chocolate chip and pig out?”

“Are they still open at this hour?” Bruce asked, sounding to be somewhere across the room. (Geez, is everyone camped out in my room?)

“Open until midnight during the summer,” Natasha replied.

“If I hurry, I can make it,” Clint reassured them. “Plus, if I buy their almost empty cartons, they’ll sell them at half price. How about it, Tony-kitty? Do you want some ice cream?” Tony debated for a moment. If he didn’t answer, he figured they would eventually leave him alone. On the other hand, delicious ice cream from his favorite place was being offered. Well, since it was apparently slumber party night at Tony’s place anyway, he might as well. Tony flicked his ears and then nodded. “Yay!” exclaimed Clint. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet. “I shall return!” The archer then hurried out.

Natasha scooted over to take Clint’s place, both hands sinking into Tony’s hair and rubbing at his ears. Tony melted into the touch. (Oh, that’s the spot…) The bed shifted as someone else sat down at his feet. Curious, Tony rubbed his face against a cushion to dry his cheeks. His lips tasted like salt. Two brown eyes peeked out of the nest, a little red from crying. Natasha gave Tony a gentle smile as he looked up at her. “Hello, котенок,” the redhead muttered again. Tony murred at her and glanced down. Bruce was at his feet, sitting against the headboard. He gave Tony a fond smile and waved a bit awkwardly. Thor was settled in a chair that had been brought over from the office, his blue eyes gazing sympathetically at the bed.

Tony sighed, Natasha’s fingers moving gently over his scalp. He relaxed a little, slowly resting his head in her lap. Natasha kept up her comforting caress until Bruce broke the silence. “Shall we watch a movie?” the scientist proposed.

“Aye, some entertainment would go well right now,” added Thor. Tony meowed softly, well on his way to being soothed to sleep and uncaring what they did.

“Shall I play something feline themed or do you wish to watch something else?” Jarvis asked as a TV screen slowly descended from the ceiling. Bruce smiled lopsidedly with a snort.

“Something else, Jarvis,” Natasha replied, her own lips quirking.

“Show us an exciting feature, Jarvis,” demanded Thor. “I do not wish to be bored.”

“Car chases and a lot of explosions, coming up.” Tony snickered into Natasha’s knee. The lights dimmed as the movie began to play. Tony drifted as Natasha curled her fingers through his hair until the first explosion from the movie boomed through the bedroom. He jerked his head up in a panic, a hiss curling his lips. For a second, his mouth was full of sand and heat burned across his skin. The sound cut off and Tony blinked in confusion. “My apologizes, Sir,” Jarvis said earnestly. 

Natasha tried to thread her fingers back into Tony’s hair and he flinched away. “It’s ok, котенок,” she muttered soothingly. “We are here. You are safe.” Tony looked warily around the room but couldn’t find anything out of place. He slumped embarrassingly back into his pillow nest, hiding his flushing cheeks against Natasha leg. “It happens to the best of us, котенок,” the redhead said, running her fingers along Tony’s flattened ears.

“We should probably watch something else,” recommended Bruce, pushing the pillows Tony’s flailing had tossed at him off the bed.

“If an action film does not suit us, then perhaps a comedy with suffice?” Thor suggested.

“I could play The Aristocats again,” Jarvis offered. Tony lifted his face, rumbling deep in his chest, and glared while Natasha and Bruce chuckled.

“I have not heard of such a movie. Is it amusing?” Thor asked.

“Jarvis, pull up The Aristocats,” Bruce ordered. “We can’t let Thor remain ignorant of classic Disney animation.” Tony gave him a betrayed look but Bruce just shrugged back at his fellow scientist. Tony let his face fall back into Natasha’s lap in defeat. It took a couple of minutes for Tony’s puffy tail to relax, resting across Bruce’s leg with just the tip curling back and forth. Tony huffed against Natasha’s knee. Today truly sucked.

Clint returned nosily just as the conniving butler was driving his little motorbike through the gloomy countryside with the kidnapped cats. “Oi!” cried the archer excitedly as he clattered into the kitchen. “I’m back! I scored some pistachio!”

Bruce stood from the bed. “I’ll go help.” He patted the back of Tony’s head as he walked past. “I’ll get you some vanilla.” Tony scowled. He really wanted some damn pistachio, honestly, but the way today was going, it would probably make him sick. He’d have to settle for plain vanilla again. Natasha dug her fingers hard behind his triangle ears, suitable distracting the dark haired man from moping as Tony pressed his head up into her touch.

“This Edgar has no honor,” Thor muttered disapprovingly as the cats were abandoned by the stream. Natasha looked up from where she was lightly scratching the back of Tony’s neck and hummed in agreement. She pressed her thumbs into the base of Tony’s skull and rubbed in firm circles. A rumbling sound started deep in the brunette’s chest, growing louder as Natasha massaged and petted. Thor glanced over in curiosity and Natasha smiled benignly as the purring drifted around the bedroom.

Clint and Bruce came back carrying bowls of cold creamy goodness. Bruce handed a big bowl full of many different flavors off to Thor before climbing back into his spot on the bed with his own bowl of chocolate chip. “Your chocolate, my lady,” Clint announced grandly, holding a bowl out to Natasha.

The redhead jogged her elbow in the air. “Just set it down,” Natasha ordered. 

Clint set the bowl of chocolate ice cream by her knee and hoisted himself up onto the bed. “Tony-kitty? Do you want your ice cream?” asked the archer. Tony’s ears flicked and he grunted into Natasha’s lap, the purring cutting off. Natasha gave Clint an annoyed look, much to his confusion. Tony yawned and turned slightly onto his side. He took the bowl from Clint and lazily lifted a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. A couple of pillows fell off the bed as Tony stretched out to press his bare toes to Bruce’s thigh. “What are we watching?” Clint asked, his green pistachio ice cream quickly disappearing.

“Disney,” replied Natasha, licking at her spoon.

“The Aristocats,” Bruce clarified.

“Cool,” Clint said, uncaring that they were watching a kid’s movie. “The Lion King next, yeah?” There were general mutters of agreement from the group. Tony rolled over and blinked sleepily at Thor. The blond god was shoveling ice cream into his mouth, seemingly unaffected by brain freeze. Tony’s tail flicked Clint in the arm and then curled around his elbow. The brunette spooned more vanilla ice cream into his mouth and yawned. 

Natasha shifted, stretching one leg out straight. Tony flopped an arm over her shin and pressed his nose against the side of her knee, a slight purring starting up in his chest. He was warm and calm and drowsy and completely unconcerned with the fact that his space had been invaded and it was coming on 1 a.m. and nobody seemed inclined to leave him alone to sulk and bemoan his broken heart. His thoughts wandered off into dreamland.

Clint saved Tony’s bowl from sliding off the edge of the bed and added the abandoned vanilla ice cream to his own. “You going to talk with Steve?” Clint asked, scooping up a mound of green and white.

Natasha stirred the melted remains of her chocolate ice cream idly around her bowl. “I’m thinking about letting him stew for a while,” she replied, a touch of grumpiness in her voice.

“It might be best if we lay off Steve for a while,” Bruce said. “He has a lot to think about.”

“You speak of your attempts to goad our friends into developing a relationship with other, yes?” asked Thor, turning his attention away from the TV screen.

“Yeah,” Clint replied. “What do you think, big guy? How do we get Steve to make a move?”

Thor shrugged. “If it is meant to happen, then it will. Our Captain is no coward but it is my understanding that things are much different now than from his original time. I have faith he will work it out himself and come to the conclusion best for himself and Tony.” He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the ice cream that had smeared into his beard. “Perhaps it is best that we stay out of it.”

Clint glanced at Natasha to gauge her reaction but the redhead had a contemplating look on her face. “I’ll speak with Steve in the morning,” she announced after a moment. “I want to at least clear the air between us but I’ll try and leave the rest of it alone.” Natasha looked down and her eyes softened as she stroked a hand along Tony’s hair. “Tony won’t be in any position to pursue another relationship for a while anyway.”

“Poor Tony-kitty,” muttered Clint. “It sucks to be broken up with.”

“Better now than some way more explosive later,” Bruce reassured him.

“It is always hard when a relationship ends,” Thor agreed, voice slow and deep. “I know I would be devastated if my fair Jane wished to part from me.” They all looked down into their empty ice cream bowls, contemplating past loves gained and lost and hearts broken along the way. Bruce made a little sniffling sound, bowing his head so his floppy hair hid his face.

“More ice cream?” Clint chirped with forced brightness. They all held their bowls out to him. The movie was winding down as Clint collected the bowls and stood.

“Just bring the cartons, Clint,” Natasha instructed. “We’ll eat from them.”

Clint grinned. “We’re still watching The Lion King next, right?”

“Of course.”


	26. TWENTYSIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha! Not dead! I'm having some problems in the last couple of months. Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon this. But please be patient while I deal with my messed up brain chemistry.
> 
> There will be a couple chapters this weekend. Let me know your opinion on the Steve and Natasha situation.

Steve spent a sleepless night staring at his ceiling, again. A couple of times his hand reached out to pet a soft, furry body without thinking about it and startled when he only touched cold sheets. He talked himself into and out of going up to the penthouse to check on Tony multiple times until it felt like his thoughts were a tangled snarl behind his eyes. Aggravated at himself for another unrestful night, Steve rolled out of bed when the eastern sky was barely turning gray and went down to the gym. He haphazardly taped up his hands and went at the punching bag with a vengeance. The world blurred, his chaotic thoughts pushed to the back of his mind by the steady swing of his fists. He was able to ignore the mess of his life for at least a little while.

Steve didn’t know how long he’d been in the gym before Jarvis interrupted him. “Captain Rogers!” the AI practically shouted, as if he had been calling for some time.

Steve stumbled, thrown out of his rhythm, and wrapped his arms around the bag to catch himself. “What?” he snapped, breathing hard.

“As per prior instructions, I am to inform you when you have reached the third consecutive hour of gym use. Also, you are injured, Captain, and have damaged the punching bag.”

Steve blinked and looked down. The tape over his knuckles was spotted red with blood. He winced as the throbbing finally penetrated his brain. A tear in the punching bag was leaking little while pellets onto the floor. Three little cleaning bots were waiting patiently a couple yards away, ready to vacuum the pellets up so they could be reused in other bags. Steve glanced at the clock. It was a little before 8am. “Damn,” he muttered, stepping back. The cleaning bots swooped in and began their work with happy beeps.

Steve wiped at the sweat on his forehead and staggered off to the locker room. He picked the bloodied tape off his hands, watching dispassionately as his torn knuckles healed before his eyes. There was an extra set of clean clothing in his locker and he showered quickly before dressing and heading back up to his apartment. His stomach grumbled in hunger and Steve headed to the small kitchen on his personal floor to look for breakfast. There wasn’t a lot of food there. They had a habit of gathering on the common floor for meals a couple of times a day and most of the food was stored in the big kitchen down there. The blond ended up eating a whole box of Cheerios with the last of the milk he had. It was a lackluster meal.

“Jarvis, any sign of Loki?” Steve asked as he turned on the TV and began to flip through the channels. He was looking for any mention of the dark haired Asgardian or, at the very least, reports of the blue birds Frigga had spent after him.

“I’m afraid not, Captain.”

Steve pinched his nose and tossed the remote onto the coffee table with a loud clatter. The wait was beginning to wear on his patience. A lot of things were beginning to wear on his patience. “Could you tell me where Tony is?” he asked after a moment.

“Sir is still in his bedroom on the penthouse floor,” Jarvis replied guardedly.

Steve hummed in acknowledgment, his knee beginning to bounce in agitation. He stood and headed for the room he had made over into a studio. It faced south and with the floor to ceiling windows, Steve never had to worry about getting the right light to paint. A long table was littered with paint tubs and discarded brushes. Several paintings were lined up against the windows, drying, with the bright reds and oranges of a desert scene and then the cool blues and greens of a forest, memories of the misty woods of Europe. There was a stack of blank canvasses in the corner. On an easel was a half-finished painting with dark blue and purple shadows and splotches of yellow. Steve walked up to it and gently laid his finger against a big splotch of yellow paint that had a thin ring of red around it. The Iron Man armor, flying through the night like a shooting star.

When Steve had started the painting he’d just been fooling around, letting the brush and paints do their thing without conscious thought. He hadn’t felt like focusing on a normal piece at the time and the sloppy splatters and strokes spoke of a slapdash technique and distracted attention. A cityscape had formed out of the dark background and somehow, Tony had appeared, glowing bright and hot, for all it looked like just another glob of paint. Steve hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but right then the sight of the painting sent a sharp pain through his chest. Steve turned around and went back to his living room. He froze as he found Natasha sitting on his couch. “How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded, startled.

“Jarvis let me in,” Natasha replied. She had pulled her legs up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around them, trying to make herself look smaller and less threatening.

“Really?” Steve asked tightly, evident from his tone that he was displeased.

“You do not have any visitor restrictions, Captain,” the AI said.

Steve gritted his teeth. “From now on, Jarvis, let's just assume I want to be told when somebody enters my apartment,” he fairly growled.

“Of course, Captain Rogers. My apologies.”

Steve gave an aggravated sigh and looked at Natasha. “I’m not sure I want to talk with you.”

“I owe you an apology,” Natasha said softly.

Steve folded his arms. “Yeah?” he prompted. He was still angry enough that he wasn't going to make it easy for the redhead.

Natasha lips twisted in amused acknowledgment. “I’m sorry,” she dutifully continued. “I haven’t been very nice to you lately and, for that, I apologize.”

Steve stared at her for a second and then flopped heavily into the armchair next to the couch. The redhead relaxed a little, picking her head up and loosening her hold on her knees. “It’s just…” Steve started but trailed off.

“Too much?” Natasha supplied after a long moment of silence.

Steve snorted, a little bit of his irritation and anger behind the sound. “You've got to back off, Natasha.” He stopped after that, frustration twisting his features. He wanted to say it was disrespectful of Tony's and Miss Potts' relationship but that was no longer the case. Natasha had foreseen their break up weeks ago. “It's not ok. I don't like having my past thrown in my face like that.” Steve glared at her a little and Natasha dropped her gaze to the floor, tensing again.

“It was the best way to get you thinking,” she said to the rug, chewing on her lip.

“That doesn't make it any better,” Steve snapped. “You don't do that to your friends. You don't use the Black Widow on your friends.” Steve saw Natasha flinch a little and the redhead sat up, dropping her legs to the floor and looking up at him squarely.

“Sorry,” Natasha said, still sincerely but without the attempts at emotional manipulation this time. She shrugged one shoulder. “I can't help it sometimes. It's a thing I'm trying to work on.”

“Try harder,” Steve huffed. Natasha dipped her head in acceptance and Steve reached up to rub at his eyes. Anger and irritation still simmered under his skin but he knew not much more would be forthcoming from the redhead. “How's Tony doing?” he asked after a moment, thoughts of the brunette muscling in as they were want to do these days.

“As well as came be expected,” replied Natasha. “We found him hiding up in the penthouse after Pepper left. We watched some movies and had some ice cream. Standard breakup fare. He was still asleep when I left this morning.”

Steve frowned. “You guys spent the night with Tony?”

“Yeah. Didn't Jarvis tell you?”

“Jarvis wasn't very forthcoming when I asked about Tony last night.”

Natasha frowned. “Strange,” she said thoughtfully. “He's usually more helpful. Did something happen?”

Steve shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

Natasha hummed. “Jarvis, are you unhappy with Steve for some reason?”

“Sir was left alone yesterday afternoon. He came up to the common room for lunch and found no one. He requested that I ask Captain Rogers if Sir could join him in his apartment but Captain Rogers declined before leaving the Tower,” replied the AI. Steve and Natasha shared a wince. Jarvis was notoriously protective of his creator and was prone to taking any slight, intended or incidental, against Tony very seriously.

“I'm sorry, Jarvis,” said Steve. “I wouldn't have been very good company right then anyway.”

“I'm sorry too, Jarvis. It's my fault Steve was in such an unhappy state,” Natasha added.

The AI is silent for a moment before speaking, “It seems that Sir is showing signs of waking. I do believe he would greatly enjoy it if everyone had breakfast together.” An offer to redeem themselves.

Steve managed a crooked smile. “Sure thing, Jarvis. That sounds nice.” As if in agreement, his stomach gave an enthusiastic growl. A couple bowls of cereal wasn't really enough to fill him.

“Super soldier metabolism catching up with you?” teased Natasha lightly as they stood.

Steve shrugged. “You know how it is. I could always eat.”

Natasha touched his arm before they reached the elevator. “Are you and I ok?” she asked quietly, giving the blond an focused look.

“Not really,” replied Steve, letting some of his remaining annoyance show through. “You’ve been really working me hard and I’m still mad at you and everybody else.” Natasha nodded, seeming to draw into herself and become more contained. Steve let out a breath through his nose and relented some. “But I’m sure we will be. You guys just have to lay off. Tony deserves better than to be mixed up with you playing matchmaker too.”

“I understand. Not a word out of me from now on,” promised Natasha.

Steve nodded, mollified. “Alright. Just, keep it cool. If we hurry, we can keep Clint from trying to fry bacon and getting grease all over the kitchen. Again.” Natasha gave a small smile and followed the blond into the elevator as the doors opened. With Steve facing away, her smile curled fox like at the corners for a moment before easing away into calmness.

(**)

Tony woke up warm, with a heavy weight across his legs and something pinning his tail. He yawned and lifted his head. Through the doorway, he could see Thor stretched out on the living room couch. The Asgardian was quietly snoring as he slept. Tony sat up, pushing some pillows from the nest out of the way. Bruce was sprawled across his legs. Clint was curled up at Tony’s back, lying on his tail. Tony wiggled, trying to free himself without waking the others, but a loud squeak from the shield plush jerked Clint awake. Bruce rolled over and smacked against the headboard, coming awake with an eloquent “Huh?”

Tony flicked his tail out from under Clint. He smoothed the ruffled black fur and yawned again. Empty bowls with sticky ice cream residue were stacked on the nightstand and the bed was a mess of twisted blankets and mounds of pillows and cushions. Tony blinked sleepily at it all before memory of yesterday trickled in. With a groan, Tony collapsed back onto the bed and buried his face in the sheets. The shield plush squeaked again and Tony reached down to pull it out from under his knee and tossed it away. Bruce sputtered as it flew past his head and knocked the lamp over. “Hey now,” complained Clint, as if insulted.

Tony made a chittering sound and tried to bury himself deeper. Clint sighed. “I know, I know; rotten, horrible morning. Stop trying to suffocate yourself.” He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and tried to haul him up but the brunette was stubborn and clung to his pillows.

Bruce smacked his lips. “I think I have an ice cream hang over,” he muttered, blinking around the room like he’d never seen it before. “What time is it?”

“8:43 am, doctor,” supplied Jarvis. “I feel as if I should inform you all that Captain Rogers and Miss Romanoff are preparing breakfast on the common floor. I believe they are hoping everyone will join them.” Clint shot Bruce a look but the curly haired scientist just shrugged. Tony peeked one eye over the pillow mound at the mention of food and let out a murr.

“What do you say, Tony-kitty?” asked Clint, testing the waters. “Are you up for some breakfast?” Tony's tail flicked in the air and he huddled his face back against the pillow.

Bruce patted at his calf. “Come on, Tony. Maybe Steve is making pancakes.”

“I can confirm that Captain Rogers is indeed making pancakes,” Jarvis added.

“See?” Clint coaxed too cheerfully. “Pancakes. You love pancakes.” Tony tensed, tail flicking in agitation. He did love pancakes. If he went down to breakfast, he would get to eat pancakes. But Tony also wanted to go hide in the workshop and work on some projects so he wouldn’t have to think of last night. Staying in bed and wallowing in misery and sadness was also looking very attractive. Getting blind drunk was a possibility. So many choices, so little time.

Bruce shook his ankle. Tony whined and tried to pull away but the other man just tightened his grip. “Come on, Tony. You need to eat.”

“Friends!” called Thor as he walked into the bedroom, hair a blond tangle around his head. Tony’s ears flattened on his head. A jovial Thor only had one volume; loud. “It is time to break our fast. Shall we go down for sustenance?”

“We’re trying to convince Tony to come down with us,” said Clint, looking unhappily up at the Asgardian.

Thor looked down at the miserable huddle of his friend and his face softened. He rested a hand lightly on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sure the Captain and Lady Natasha would be happy to indulge your love of blueberries if you come down with us for breakfast,” he said, voice at a more suitable volume. Tony’s ears perked up and he peeked one brown eye up at the blond. He did love blueberries. He loved pancakes and blueberries together even more. Tony heaved a put upon sigh and levered himself up to sit on the bed. “Excellent!” Thor exclaimed. “Now we can all enjoy pancakes and blueberries together.” Tony gave him a grumpy look and crawled across the bed with a complaining chitter.

Tony clambered across Clint, who didn’t seem to care he was in the way, and stood to shuffle toward the bathroom. His tail flicked back at them as he closed the door firmly. “Guess we’ll see him downstairs then,” Bruce said dryly. The water turned on in the shower and Bruce snorted.

“Tony-kitty is cranky,” observed Clint, tossing pillows away so he could get off the bed. “Poor, cranky Tony-kitty.”

“He is heart sore,” Thor said, following them out into the living room. The couch was piled with the blankets and pillows he’d stolen to sleep with. “Tony will be fine after he has time to mourn.”


	27. TWENTYSEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww. Thanks for the kind comments everybody. I'm ok. Just dealing with health things that sap my energy and desire to write. We'll get there eventually.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter. I feel like I'm still trying to get traction.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day!

Tony rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he kicked the door to the bathroom shut. He could hear Clint complaining of his grumpy attitude and snorted to himself before turning on the sink. He thought he was entitled to a little grumpiness. A person couldn’t be expected to keep a sunny disposition when sporting cat ears and a tail and having just been broken up with by their best chance at happiness. Tony’s tail drooped, curling around his leg, as he brushed his teeth. The mint from the toothpaste still stung a bit but it wasn’t too bad.

Tony caught his own gaze in the mirror and wrinkled his nose. His eyes were red and his cheeks crusty with dried tears. Dark hair stuck up in wild tuffs, in desperate need of a trim. Or was that because of the cat ears? Tony made an angry face at his reflection, baring foamy fangs, and looked away with an upset growl. He didn’t blame Pepper for breaking up with him. Nobody would want to put up with the train wreck that was Tony freaking Stark. He couldn’t even keep his mouth shut during a fight! What sort of loser gets turned into a cat? Tony freaking Stark, that’s who.

He rinsed his mouth out and fairly threw his toothbrush down onto the counter. It’s a wonder that Pepper hadn’t broken up with him earlier! Tony always knew she was incredible but to put up with him for so long qualified her for sainthood as far as he was concerned. The brunette shimmied out of his clothing, the shower turning on full blast as he yanked open the glass doors. Tony stepped inside and let out a pleased trilled as the hot water fell over him. The sore muscles in his neck and back loosened and Tony tried to relax, turning into the spray. He scrubbed at his face with a wet cloth, removing all evidence of tears. 

Still, it had been nice while it lasted. It had been nice to call someone his own and to have that person lay equal claim to him in return. Tony had thought he and Pepper were doing well! They had settled into a pattern of orbit that seemed to suit them, like the sun and the moon. But, looking back, he could see what Pepper meant about them pulling apart from each other. Their gravity hadn’t been enough to keep them together.

Tony snorted to himself and grabbed the shampoo. Now he was using astrology metaphors. How distressing. His ears flattened as he soaped up his hair and gazed at the shower tile mournfully. Pepper had been in pain and Tony hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too dumb to realize something was wrong between them, too distracted by the Avengers and being Iron Man to realize that their relationship was crumbling. (No wonder Pepper broke up with me,) he thought disapprovingly at himself. He was a horrible boyfriend. Tony was oblivious enough that he hadn’t even noticed them drifting apart or that Pepper was unhappy. He always knew that relationships weren’t for him and now he’d messed up with the one person who knew him best, who knew all his faults, and had still taken a chance on him. It was empirical evidence that Tony Stark just wasn’t meant to be with someone. Something just wasn’t wired right in him.

Tony stood frowning at the shower drain until shampoo dripped into his eyes. He squawked and fumbled the wand down so he could wash the suds away. He rinsed himself off with an aggravated sigh and stepped out of the shower. The pants he had been wearing were the only ones with a hole for his tail. Tony dried himself off, rubbing briskly at his hair, and then put on a clean shirt and the dirty modified pants. Annoyed, he grabbed another pair of sweatpants and headed down to the common floor.

Everyone was crowded into the kitchen when Tony arrived and he announced his presence with a loud meow, heading straight for Natasha. “Good morning, Tony-kitty,” said Clint as the brunette wiggled between him and the other assassin. 

Natasha cocked an eyebrow as Tony held the clean sweatpants up with a plaintive mew. “I see. Give them here, котенок,” she said, grabbing the clothing and reaching down to her boot. She flicked open the small knife and set about delicately picking the seam out of the pants. Tony chirped in thanks and went around the counter to where Steve was making the pancakes at the stove. With a dramatic and put-upon sigh, Tony collapsed against Steve’s back, burying his face between the larger man’s shoulder blades. The brunette whined theatrically. He was not above playing it up for sympathy from his friends.

Steve tensed and Tony blinking in confusion. He lifted his head with a questioning trill. The Avengers were all used to his lack of respect for personal space and his tendency to place himself wherever he damn well pleased and Tony sure as hell couldn’t have surprised Steve. The man was a super solider. He would have heard the brunette coming from a mile away. Tony felt Steve relax and the blond looked over his shoulder to smile down at him. “Sorry, Tony. You startled me.” Tony frowned at him. (Bullshit.)

“Done!” exclaimed Natasha, lifting the pair of sweatpants she was modifying into the air with a flourish. Tony looked at her, missing Steve’s grimace. The redhead tossed the pants to Tony. “Here, go change.” Tony gave Steve one last suspicious look before trotting out of the kitchen. Natasha pursed her lips at Steve, unimpressed, and the blond couldn’t stop himself from flinching. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, flipping the pancake in the pan only to find the underside had burned. Natasha sighed while Clint rolled his eyes. Bruce huddled over his coffee cup, not getting involved in the tension. Thor gave the group a disapproving frown before pouring everyone some orange juice. “I didn’t mean to,” Steve said sulkily to the spatula.

Natasha deflated, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. “Crap,” she muttered. Steve poured fresh batter into the pan as Tony came back in wearing the clean pants. He slowly climbed up on his usual stool while frowning at the subdued atmosphere. “Clint, stopped trying to eat all the bacon!” growled Natasha, the world snapping back into motion.

The archer’s hand froze midair and he whined, “But I love bacon.”

“You’ve already eaten half the plate!”

Thor gave a boisterous laugh, the room seemingly brightening. “Bacon is a fine food, my friend, but save some for the rest of us.” Clint pouted but dropped his hand.

Steve chuckled, flipping the pancake . “Tony, do you want to get some strawberries from the refrigerator and slice them up?” he asked, attempting to not overthink his actions. Tony brightened and slipped off his chair. A raid on the fridge produced a packet of strawberries and something else. Steve looked over at the touch on his arm and found Tony looking hopefully up at him with a basket of little dark fruit. “Yes, I’ll put blueberries in your pancakes if you want,” Steve said with a smile, taking them. Tony gave a happy murr and settled at the island with the strawberries and a small paring knife.

Bruce took one of the red fruits and bit into it. “See? Told you you would have blueberry pancakes. Aren’t you glad you came down now?” Tony stuck his tongue out at him and went back to slicing the strawberries. Soon there was a big stack of golden fluffy pancakes; blueberry for Tony, strawberry for Natasha and Bruce, chocolate chip for Clint, and, well, Steve and Thor would probably have some of each type. Those two could probably eat everything by themselves and still have room for more. Tony contented himself with a glass of milk, although he looked longingly at the coffee everyone else was drinking.

“So, what are we going to do today?” asked Clint, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“Should we look for Loki ourselves?” Natasha suggested.

“No,” replied Steve. “Loki has proven dangerously unpredictable when confronted and we have little recourse against his magic.” Tony gave a little shudder. Spending a night lost in the forest being menaced by a coyote had not been his idea of fun. “Jarvis, what about you? Have you been able to find anything?”

“I am afraid not, Captain. There have been no reports of sightings of either Loki or the creatures Queen Frigga sent out,” Jarvis announced.

“The andar my Mother summoned will find Loki in due time,” Thor assured them confidently. Then he hesitated a little. “But my brother is an accomplished magic user in his own right. If he is trying to hide, then it may take some time for the andar to find him.” He looked apologetically at Tony. “I am sorry.” Tony’s ears dropped but he gave Thor a shrug and a crooked smile in forgiveness.

“More waiting. Lovely,” Clint complained lightly. He’d somehow managed to get more bacon and just grinned as Natasha glared at him.

“Some more movies then?” proposed Bruce. Tony gave an unenthusiastic murr.

“We should check in with Director Fury and SHIELD,” Steve said. That got a couple of groans.

“You’re assuming that Fury doesn’t know everything that goes on here,” Natasha countered.

“He’s probably got a spotter in one of the other buildings with long distance binoculars trained on us,” Clint said sourly. Tony’s ears perked up in alarm.

“There is not,” Jarvis said, sounding peeved. “My security measures would make such a thing quite impossible.” Tony relaxed. He trusted the AI to look after the Tower and everybody in it.

“I should still update him,” insisted Steve. Natasha gave an unconcerned hand wave, uncaring what the blond did. 

“Looks like another exciting day in store for us,” grouched Clint.

“I think we could use a little less excitement around here, don’t you?” Bruce asked mildly. Clint grimaced and crunched on some more bacon. Thor slid the plate to the other end of the island and gave the archer a stern look. Suddenly finding crispy goodness in front of him, Tony gave a pleased chirrup and transferred a few bacon strips onto his plate before scooping the remaining pieces onto Steve’s plate. Steve gave him a smile in response.

Clint looked on in horror. “You guys are so mean!” he cried.

Natasha gave his shoulder a light punch as she chuckled. “Come on, if we have nothing better to do, than I want to do some sparing down in the gym.” Clint groaned but obediently shoveled the last of his pancakes into his mouth before following the redhead out of the kitchen.

“I guess I have some projects I could focus on in the lab,” Bruce said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Tony, if you have time I’d like you to join me. I want to see what we can learn about your musculature with an MRI, if you’re amicable?” Tony ears twitched but he was curious too. (Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought him back,) he thought. Tony nodded. Bruce smiled, pleased. “I’ll see you when you are free then.” With that, he put his plate and silverware in the sink and left.

Thor pulled the left over pancakes toward him and equally separated them between himself and Steve. “More blueberry pancakes, Tony?” asked Steve politely. Tony shook his head, smiling a little, and gave him a little ‘you go ahead’ motion. The two blonds tucked in and soon the remaining pancakes were gone. Leftovers were not a thing that happened when housing a super soldier and an Asgardian prince.

“Thank you for the meal, Steven,” Thor said when he’d scrapped his plate clean.

“You’re welcome, Thor. It’s no trouble.”

Thor nodded. “Good day to the both of you.” Tony trilled as he left, still sipping at his milk. Steve was still finishing the last few bites of his pancakes, so Tony gathered the rest of the dirty plates and dumped them in the sink. He then turned on the hot water and grabbed the dish soap, upending it over the water and squirting a long stream in. Soap suds began to fill the sink and Tony gave a pleased chirrup.

Steven grabbed the bottle out of his hands. “That’s enough,” he squeaked, pushing the faucet arm away. A white mound of suds filled the sink to almost overflowing and Steve shuffled around Tony to scoop some of it away before they could drop onto the floor. Tony shrugged and grabbed a towel, standing at the ready for drying duty. Steve glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Why don’t you head down to the lab? I know you and Bruce have been wanting to do your science thing.” Tony’s tail ticked like an annoyed clock. ‘Science thing,’ he mouthed to himself. He frowned at Steve. The blond glanced at him and then tipped his chin at the door. “Go on. I don’t need any help here. Have fun.” Hesitantly, Tony put the towel on the counter and headed out of the kitchen, looking over his shoulder like maybe this was a trick. Steve just smiled at him and gave Tony another ‘go on’ nod.

Tony walked through the living room to the elevator, catching sight of Thor standing out on the balcony. The Asgardian seemed to be slowly scanning the city skyline. Tail twitching in agitation, Tony disappeared into the elevator. Steve sighed as the doors closed, his shoulders slumping. “Get a grip, Rogers,” he muttered at himself as he fished a dish out of the suds and began to scrub. “Get a grip.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, everyone needs a kitty!Tony fanfic in their collection. It’s just one of those things every fanfiction author needs to do. This is not beta-read. All mistakes are my own.


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